


Crash and Burn

by notsugarandspice



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Eddie Dancer, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flashbacks, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Post-Pennywise (IT), Reddie, Richie Musician, Richie is a hottie, SO MUCH FLUFF, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, a fucking book, a little angst never hurt nobody, benverly - Freeform, eddie is a little shit, is the burn slow if there are flashbacks, late 90s setting, post-college, this will be long af, timeline is weird, warnings before every chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-03-03 14:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 92,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13343043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsugarandspice/pseuds/notsugarandspice
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak and Richie Tozier fell apart. Eddie moved to New York City in 1995 and was later joined by Beverly Marsh who became not only his best friend but also a stellar manager. Eddie fell in love with dancing, while Richie became a freelance musician. They seemed to have lost each other for good until fate brought them back together to give their love a second chance.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so I have already written about 10 chapters and will have them posted once they're all edited. Other characters will join in, so please bear with me! Pennywise was defeated once and for all, just in case that wasn't clear BECAUSE I CAN'T HANDLE ANYONE DYING. The timeline might throw you off, but let's say they graduated high school in 1995 and then everything takes off from there. And I know a little about Broadway shows, and how they work so, please don't judge for some misinformation. Also, please let me know what you think. This is my first fan-fic. Enjoy!

How Eddie turned out to be a dancer, he didn’t know. He joined a dance troupe in college, thinking that he needs to find a way to work out and attempt to have fun while doing it. He never really suspected to find something he’s going to want to do every single day. He was one of the only three guys on their team, even though the other two were mainly there for heavy lifting. Eddie, being the petite man that he is, was more interested in the actual dancing aspect of his hobby, so the female lifting was out of the question.

New York was full of opportunities for dancers, and Eddie was extremely excited at the prospect of getting a real gig. He didn’t need to worry about having a boring 9-5 anymore – he wanted to spend the rest of his life dancing and making a living out of it. One of the worst things about that profession though is that you can audition for dozens of opportunities, and never get a response from any of them. But thankfully for Eddie, he was attractive and extremely talented, so he had no problem in landing gigs that actually paid well. After being in his college dance troupe for four years, he finally decided that it was time to branch out into the professional world and started auditioning for on and off-Broadway productions. After dozens of rejections, oceans of tears, and sleepless nights in the dance studio, he finally landed a spot in a Broadway show “Cats”. He was walking into his and Beverly’s shared apartment to hear the great news.

“Bev, you won’t believe how rude that guy in the café was. I ordered a fucking vanilla latte, and he looked at me as if - ” Eddie didn’t get to finish his sentence when he felt a body slam into his.

“Eddie, you won’t believe who just called!” Bev hugged Eddie so hard he felt his bones shrinking under her touch. She smelled like cigarettes and mint - like she always did - which painfully reminded him of someone he tried not to think about too much.

“Oh my fucking god, Bev. I can’t breathe!” said Eddie, desperately trying to get the words out without sounding like he had no esophagus.

She stopped hugging him and stepped back to give him some space, grinning so hard that her mouth seemed to hurt. Eddie couldn’t help but feel a surge of love towards her - she’s been through so much with him that he couldn’t even be mad at her for almost squishing the life out of him. It also never seemed to skip him how beautiful she was, even in her grandma one-piece pajamas and short ruffled hair. He easily understood why so many men hit on her.

“Okay, so are you ready?” asked Bev, beaming at Eddie and he honestly couldn’t even guess what happened.

“Just spit it out, Bev, I want to get excited too!” said Eddie, softening up after the bone-crushing hug.

“You got the part! You got the part in “Cats”!

“I... WHAT?! I g-got it?! Are you kidding me?!” screamed Eddie, barely getting the words out before slamming his body to Bev’s, tears of happiness forming in his eyes.

“I told you that you were going to get that Broadway performance one day! You nailed it!” squealed Bev, hugging Eddie tightly, feeling a surge of sisterly pride to the small boy.

“I can’t believe it... I really fucking can’t!” said Eddie, stepping back a little to clutch his head, finding it hard to process anything.

“Am I the best manager or what?” said Bev, posing as if Eddie was going to take a picture of her. Eddie giggled and hugged her warmly again.

“Yes, you really are.”

 

 

Eddie’s life changed completely after that day – it’s as if the stars finally aligned and he was meant to revel in his happiness for the rest of eternity. Unfortunately, life isn’t always a buttered biscuit, and Eddie’s loneliness was catching up to him. He was an attractive man, sure, but he couldn’t go through one date with a guy without comparing him to his first love. They never made him laugh. They barely ever made him smile (at least not in earnest). They matched his personality almost to perfection, and that was pissing Eddie off so much – why can’t they challenge him at least a little? All the men Eddie tried to be with ended up nothing short of disappointments. He never even shared a bed with anyone. And it wasn’t the physical aspect of it that bothered him (because he didn’t actually care about that), it was the fact that he hasn’t felt his heart race since 1995 and the realization of that left him sobbing in his pillow for way too many nights.

But everything changed one day when someone he never expected to see again waltzed into his life like a Category 5 hurricane, which felt both like a blessing and a curse. Eddie was finally in a full mode of rehearsals and spent every day at the theater. Broadway preparations were no joke – he had to be warmed up at all times and ready to learn a new move any day. Even though the play was a classic, the choreographer loved to bring in new ideas, and as annoying as that was, Eddie couldn’t find it in his heart to complain. They were on the 3rd hour of rehearsals, and he and the dance group were sitting on the side of the main stage, waiting for one of the lead actors to finally get his line right so they could step in with their number. That was the first day that they were supposed to do the whole rehearsal with live music, and not just a recording. The musicians were very late which the director said was due to the changes made to the members of the band. But everyone knew that the changes HAD to be made because the lead guitarist/writer sniffed cocaine often enough for it to get stuck in the piano keys, so he was naturally fired, and as discovered, many others from the band. Now that they needed new people, finding them was easier said than done.

Eddie heard some voices talking in the back, guessing that it is a new band approaching. He rolled his eyes at their lateness, even though he knew that they probably just came out of the final audition. Eddie was more annoyed at the fact that he had to continually stretch for his muscles not to cool down, and the fact that the lead actor was too drunk all past week to memorize his lines. Dozens of them were now sitting there not really knowing what to do with themselves, so they were either talking, stretching, or practicing their moves. Eddie glanced at Bev who was sitting in the first row of the audience – she loved coming to Eddie’s rehearsals, especially since she was allowed to be present as his manager. He now observed her jotting something down in her notebook which Eddie guessed was poetry – she loved to write because it reminded her of Ben and because, well, she was _really fucking good_. Eddie always told her that she needs to publish her work, but she said that they were too personal and no one could understand them anyway. He didn’t press because it brought tears to her eyes and he hated seeing her upset.

“Oh. My. God.” Beverly suddenly stood up, her eyes wide and her voice ringing through the entire auditorium.

Eddie saw her running up the stage but not towards him, someone behind him. Everything happened very much in slow motion afterward. The small boy (and pretty much every single person on stage) quickly turned around, getting up from his spot on the floor. Beverly was running towards somebody’s arms who was shielded from Eddie by a huge red curtain. He could hear Bev laugh and he started getting an uneasy feeling in his stomach that it would be someone he knows. Eddie stepped a little bit to the side to take a look, standing almost on the edge of the stage. What he saw next knocked all air out of him, and he felt like he might pass out when his head suddenly felt too heavy for him to bare. Bev was hugging a man who was much taller than her, who squeezed her tight, lifting her off the ground and buried his head in her neck. The messy black curls didn’t change a bit, and neither did his style – he was wearing dark blue jeans with a jean jacket that was too big, and Eddie could see a cigarette tucked behind his ear. He couldn’t see his face, but Eddie knew exactly who it was – Richie. His Richie. Richie Tozier. Only the love of his life. Only a man who broke his heart.

Eddie stood rooted to the spot, watching his entire world crash and burn with so much pain in his chest he thought he might lose his mind. The reality of it all didn’t hit him until Richie finally let Bev go and took her face in his huge hands to stare down at her with loving admiration. Eddie noticed that he still wore glasses, even though they weren’t as ridiculous anymore, they looked rather normal and suited his face perfectly. Eddie heard them talking, and he could probably hear everything, but he had this white noise in his ears, similar to when a huge explosion erupts extremely close to you, and you feel deaf for a couple of minutes. He watched their exchange with the lack of breath, but he didn’t even have the energy or willpower to move or honestly _process any fucking human information._ He felt his heart temporarily stop when Richie locked eyes with him, the taller man’s face falling from shock.

As Beverly observed the interaction between the two, she remembered the night of their senior year that no one but her seemed to recall…

 

 


	2. New Year’s, 1994

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Loser's Club celebrates the upcoming 1995. (Flashback)

Their graduation year was a full-on mess. Everyone knew they had to decide on who they wanted to be and what they wanted to do, but nothing really mattered. The New Year’s party at Bill’s is all everyone was thinking about. His parents left to visit their relatives in Colorado, leaving the house empty and ready to be occupied by dozens of teenagers. College applications were done and forgotten, exams completed and last worries of the semester way past them. All they could think about was getting drunk and putting the memories of the dreaded grades past them. 

Bev came back to Derry the senior year, realizing that she would be fooling herself by thinking that adjusting to the new town would be much better. She occupied a small apartment in the middle of the town that her aunt rented for her now that her niece was 18 years old and able to live by herself. Bev got a job in the pharmacy below her apartment, trying to help out with the rent money. It was actually a pretty nice place to work at - now that Greta was gone to college, there was no one there for the redhead to avoid. Beverly knew for a fact that she will never forget what she had to go through but she pulled up the courage to return to Derry and reunite with her former friends, knowing that they are the only ones who could make her PTSD more bearable. Little did she know that when she comes back, she will barely recognize her companions.

Ben, to begin with, lost all of his baby weight and was now about 5’10”, and full of muscle. As much as she enjoyed being with girls (more like had to be with girls because men generally made her sick), Bev couldn’t help but think of what it would be like to be held by someone like Ben. Bill was the same handsome Bill he always was, reaching to 6 feet, lean and barely stuttering anymore because of his sudden interest in public speaking. Stanley grew up an incredibly attractive blond curly boy with a very much obvious infatuation with Bill, and an insanely successful academic career that would later take him to med school. Richie was, well, the most handsome of the group, no question. He looked like a real-life rock star without actually trying hard to look hot. His height towered above anyone in the room, and he smelled like cigarettes and mints which mirrored Bev’s constant perfume. Richie wore band t-shirts (unless he found some t-shirts with cartoons on them that still fit him) and ripped jeans, mostly covered by ridiculously oversized jackets that looked way too good on him. His hair added a good half foot to his height, and the severely pronounced cheekbones left everyone silently moaning. Beverly constantly found herself questioning her sexuality around him, but later realized that it was mostly because Richie was oozing sex and joked about it constantly, so she wasn’t surprised that even her homosexuality swooned at the sight of him. And Eddie was undeniably the most beautiful human being in Derry. His gorgeous brown curls shone in the sun, his dark chocolate eyes increased in size as the years went on, making him appear anime-like, and his small 5’6” height made him that much more adorable and likable. It also didn’t help that he barely ever wore pants that went below his knees, and the warm colors of his clothing had every member of the football team staring when he came to Ben’s practices. Mike graduated a year before them and was now managing the farm that officially went to him once he turned 18, but he still snuck to the football games and high school parties hosted by ‘The Loser’s Club’, earning looks from dozens of freshmen girls.

Most of them arrived separately because of the different responsibilities they had in preparation for the party. Richie was the alcohol guy. His father was secretly an alcoholic, even though nobody outside of their household would ever think so. But that also meant that Richie’s house always had an immense amount of booze and none of it missing would ever be noticed. Eddie was responsible for food because he was the best goddamned cook around and made everything look impeccably aesthetic. Stanley was responsible for set up at Bill’s house, so he was the only one who was there before the party actually started. Mike usually showed up way later because of his ‘adult’ responsibilities, and since Ben didn’t drink because he was on the football team, was the responsible DD, and made sure that everyone who was invited actually RSVP’d and made it to the party.

Ben was the first one to arrive, accompanying a couple of his football friends and two cheerleaders. Bill and Stanley, delighted to see the first guests file in started passing the beer around, knowing full well that they’re not lightweights and could drink a lot more throughout the night. Richie was next, bringing some hard liquor and a lot more beer. He started drinking right away, realizing that he had to pre-party to actually enjoy the damn gathering full of people he didn’t know. Mike came in fresh out of the shower and instantly received attention from some blond freshman girl who decided to hang off of his arm the entire night. Beverly followed suit, and since nobody asked her to bring anything, she just ended up sharing her overwhelming stash of cigarettes with everyone who asked for some.

Eddie showed up pretty much after every single person who was invited was grinding in the middle of Bill’s living room. He realized that he should’ve hurried, but he was extremely nervous to be in the room full of complete strangers and wanted to make sure his anxiety subsided a little bit before walking into the house. Ever since he gave up on using his fake inhaler, he has had to deal with things like anxiety by breathing deep and staying calm. He ended up sitting on the hood of his mom’s car for good 40min just watching people entering the house, dreading the time when he’d have to go to the party himself. The thing that eventually woke him up was the rumbling sound that his stomach made in protest, and that made him realize that probably everyone at that party was drinking with an empty stomach. Which meant a lot of fucking puke and probably a lot of unplanned fucking. _Ew. Fuck._

Eddie entered the house already dreading the approaching gag reflex. His insides were turning from the blasting Nirvana music and the stench of alcohol, and the undeniable smell of sex and sweat. He felt his palms sweating profusely under the trays of food he was carrying, walking extremely slow between the jumping teenagers blocking the hallway to the kitchen. He couldn’t help but feel completely out of place, but he knew that as soon as he found his friends, he’d feel 1000x better. He was definitely the only guy of his age dressed very nice. He wore a pastel pink button-down with the sleeves rolled up (because nobody wanted to open the goddamn windows in this house), dark khaki pants (rare occasion of long pants because it was fucking freezing outside), and very polished dark brown oxfords that made him look like the hottest frat boy anyone could ever picture. Eddie typically wore polos and shorts, with an overly humongous backpack but he wanted to look really nice tonight for some reason, and couldn’t really understand what possessed him to dress that cute. But when he looked at himself in the mirror upon entering Bill’s house, he felt like a catch for the first time in his life, confidence oozing through his tiny body.

He finally reached the arch that led to the kitchen and was able to fit the trays between the scattered bottles of alcohol and countless used plastic cups. He glanced back to the living room and saw Bill dancing enthusiastically with Stanley, and Mike making out with some tiny blond girl in the corner. Eddie immediately felt the need to clean up the place to make sure that his food looks the part and found the stash of huge garbage bags, throwing everything on the counters straight in without looking. He heard someone’s key rattle at the very bottom of the bag. _Oh well_. He continued with it until most of the counters were empty enough for the setup. Eddie started distributing the trays in an even row when some obnoxious freshman was attempting to carry away the entire tray of mac n’ cheese with him to the living room. Eddie quickly smacked his arm, earning a loud “OW” from the boy, who, surprised by the force of a petite senior, ran in the direction of dancing people completely forgetting about food. Eddie rolled his eyes and continued distributing the rest of the trays, trying to be very careful not to bump into the couple making out inches away from him.

Richie was standing outside, smoking his 20th cigarette of the night when he noticed his favorite small boy hitting someone in the middle of the kitchen, fighting for a tray of his delicious concoction. Richie giggled, ignoring the whatever boring fucking story Emily was telling him. He couldn’t distinguish what Eddie was wearing and whether he drank already, but he decided he would stand there to stare at him a little longer from the distance. The sliding window doors obscured his view a bit, but he could still distinguish Eddie’s gigantic doe eyes and his beautiful shiny hair that drove Richie fucking livid. _What I would do with that carefully kept hair if I could only get close enough._ Richie quickly shook the thoughts away, knowing full well that the possibility of that happening was as small as him quitting smoking is. It also didn’t help that Richie was already plenty drunk and that usually meant that the thoughts of Eddie crept up on him uncontrollably. He threw a cigarette butt on the back porch and slowly entered the house through the sliding glass door, trying to be sneaky enough to avoid Eddie’s gaze. Emily scoffed from the rude interruption and went on to flirt with Ben’s teammate who stood outside with his arm around Bev, puffing smoke.

Eddie was putting plastic spoons and tongs on every tray when he felt someone’s breath on the back of his neck. He was ready to quickly spin around and smack whoever felt the need to be that physically close to him in the face when he felt a pair of long limbs lock his arms behind him with a pair of tongs still in his hand, guessing full well who was now holding him. Even without saying a word, Richie was making him feel things he didn’t want to feel, and he hated him for it.

“Whoa, Spaghetti-Man, you could take my eye out with that,” said Richie giddily, grinning from ear to ear, his chin leaning on Eddie’s shoulder, his warm breath tickling the small boy’s neck. This proximity was making Eddie want to rock his hips backward, but he ignored the desire.

“Why the fuck would you creep up on me, dickwad? Do you know how many creeps are at this party?” spat Eddie, but not with actual annoyance in his voice. He sounded more pleading, and he hated the way Richie’s cold hands were making him shiver somewhere deep inside.

Richie let go of Eddie, and the latter spun around with a pair of tongs in his hand. What Eddie saw in front of him made him basically lose consciousness for a couple of seconds. He always considered Richie insanely attractive, even if he tried to push the thought off for the longest time, but the way he looked at this party _should have been fucking illegal_. He was wearing a grey faded band tee and the sexiest ripped bleached blue jeans he has ever seen. One pant side of the overly long pair was tucked into some destroyed black boots, and one side of the shirt was tucked into the jeans, revealing a relatively mauled black leather belt. Richie’s hair was the usual hot (very hot) mess with one cigarette tucked behind his ear, no glasses in sight. Eddie’s mouth was so dry, he thought just looking at his friend would cause him to have an asthma attack. Little did he know, Richie was slowly getting hard under Eddie’s eyes, also drinking in his friend’s frame.

To Richie, Eddie was the epitome of perfection. He was always Richie’s closest friend, but after freshman year of high school, the tall boy finally realized that the real reason he liked to pinch Eddie’s cheeks so much was that there were other parts of his body he would also love to get his hands on. As the realization dawned on him throughout the years, the choking fear of Eddie’s rejection forced him to act as straight as possible, nailing every girl who had an eye for him, and boy were there a lot. Unfortunately for Richie, every time he reached climax, he could only see Eddie’s shining eyes, and that eventually grew into a painful throb in his chest that he couldn’t ignore. As sex with anyone became utterly impossible (mostly because he couldn’t get it up), Richie was left to manhandling himself and stealing glances at Eddie’s ass every opportunity he had. But the blue balls were getting ridiculously painful lately, and Eddie’s current entourage was not making it any easier.

Richie has seen Eddie in a suit before, sure, during the homecoming dances but this was different, he looked HOT. His button-down had a soft color that matched Eddie’s cheeks and was neatly tucked into his khakis that are so _goddamn tight why are they so tight_. Richie could see the outline of Eddie’s dick in them, and it was making him itchy in places he thought were impossible to have nerve endings. Eddie’s rolled up sleeves were making his biceps stand out which were pretty prominent because Eddie loved to work out in his backyard to make up for his lack of height. Richie quickly remembered the way that Eddie’s ass looked in those pants as he was creeping behind him and he thought that he was going to come in his pants _right that fucking second._  

“What are you staring at, Tozier?” asked Eddie, a blush very prominent on his cheeks and dark thoughts entering his mind.

“Mmm. You don’t want to know, Eds.” Richie was finding it very hard to concentrate on speech which was usually not a problem at all. But Eddie’s whole presence was making him fucking leak out of his boxers, and he was afraid to move anywhere out of fear of crying out in frustration. 

“Well, I didn’t have a drink yet. While I’m getting one, you might want to think about snapping a couple of polaroids for the image to last longer,” Eddie sassed, not in the least sorry for the prudent way he answered Richie. 

Richie tried to nudge the little boy for the snarky remark, but the latter dodged and found himself by the ‘bar’ that overlooked the living room, mixing a lot of juice with a lot of vodka. Eddie found that it was the only way he could drink alcohol without retching from the first whiff, and he rather enjoyed being brave _so what the hell_. He glanced towards Bill who was now full-on grinding on Stanley, and that elicited an adorable snort from the small boy. _Took them long enough._ Richie stood to the left of Eddie with a new beer in hand, slowly drinking in the small boy’s features, only now realizing that the tightness he felt in his chest was because he was head over heels in love with Kaspbrak and he would do anything for his friend to feel the same. He inched a little closer (if that was even possible) and kissed Eddie’s cheek while he was pouring himself a drink.

“What the fuck, Richie?! You gross idiot. Why are your kisses so fucking wet?!” squealed Eddie, grabbing Richie’s free arm to wipe the saliva off of his cheek, reddening in the face at the tightness in his groin that the kiss created.

“You wouldn’t be complaining if my kisses were this wet down under, mate.” The terrible Australian accent didn’t shield the darkness in the tall boy’s eyes. Richie realized that he might have stepped over the line, but he was drunk enough not to care.

Eddie, on the other hand, seemed to have lost all ability to speak. He was pretty sure that he almost had a full boner now and that he will never stop picturing Richie’s wet mouth DOWN UNDER. He suddenly felt really sick, thousands of tiny punches rolling around his stomach. He has pictured doing many things with Richie, but something like that coming out of his friend’s mouth had almost literally made him have a full-on stroke. He wasn’t sure if it was the atmosphere, the anticipation of the new year, or just the way Richie looked that brought the seriousness to the sentence. Eddie licked his lips automatically, mostly as a physical response to what he just heard. Richie’s expression instantly changed because Eddie’s mouth was his _goddamn weakness_. Richie thought Eddie had the prettiest lips in the world, and the sexy movement that Eddie just did made the tall boy lose his mind. Eddie saw how dark and serious Richie’s eyes got and that made him almost unbearably hard. They were standing so close that Eddie could feel Richie’s sweet breath beneath the smell of the gum, and his insides were turning at the speed of light, making him want to vomit but also jump and fuck Richie’s brains out. Before either of them decided on a move, Beverly slammed into them barely standing straight, kissing them both on the cheek, the smell of cigarettes enveloping the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first flashback to something that happened between Eddie and Richie before they fell apart. They're celebrating the upcoming 1995, so it's still technically December 31st, 1994 (sorry, if it's confusing). Everyone got so hammered that Bev will be the only one to remember it. I promise the next one will be fucking fantastic. But the next chapter will be the present (1999), and then will be followed by another flashback. Enjoy, lovelies!


	3. August, 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie reunite after years of silence.

_Richie… Richie… Richie… Oh… What? No. I can’t deal with this. What? No._

Richie stood transfixed as he saw Eddie run off stage and towards the exit of the theater. He was in so much shock that he couldn’t really comprehend anything. _Is this real? Was that Eddie?_ He couldn’t really tell. He knew he looked like Eddie. Shit, nobody has ever even REMINDED him of Eddie because he was one of a kind. But Richie would recognize those brown doe eyes anywhere. Eddie became more like a recurring dream to him – something that sat in the back of his mind and warmed up his insides but also sliced his heart into millions of pieces. He never actually expected to see him again and he didn’t know how to respond to the nauseous feeling he didn’t experience since 1995. Before he could even process anything, Bev chimed in.

 

“Richie. Richie!” Bev was now raising her voice, desperately trying to get his attention, and gently shaking his shoulder.

 

“Wh… What? WHAT?!” Richie shouted in response, not really in control of his emotions or really anything at this point.

 

“Go after him, now. Go!” Bev shoved him in the direction of the end of the stage and Richie looked back at her with a terrified expression, not really aware of the reality of the whole situation.

 

Richie stumbled onto the seating floor, lightly jogging in the direction he saw Eddie run to. _Eddie, Eddie, Eddie._ He couldn’t believe what was happening. That boy was the reason he couldn’t look at other people, the reason his confusion with his sexuality created a part of him that could never be with anyone but the small boy. Richie remembered the day Eddie left for college like it was yesterday – the tears they exchanged and the promises they made to always stay friends, and so many things left unsaid between them. Obviously, nothing really worked out in their favor.

 

The tall man jogged towards the entrance to the theater that was now empty, but the light from the door illuminated the lobby in the enchanting morning light. His converse skidded on the floor when he saw a small form sitting on the floor with a face in his hands, not crying or even shaking – not really moving at all. He didn’t know how to approach him; he didn’t even know what was _okay_ anymore. They haven’t spoken for years – Eddie the one to initiate the silence by ignoring Richie’s calls and letters, clearly not wanting to communicate with him. Richie’s heart did a slight jump when he saw Eddie brush fingers through his hair. _God, he still has the most beautiful hair._ Richie decided to find out whether he will be pushed away again by sitting down by the wall next to Eddie, careful not to make any physical contact.

 

Eddie’s mind was swirling with thousands of questions. _Why is he here? How did he get to New York? I thought I could get away from him and the pain that being around him caused me by moving away. Why is he here?_ Eddie finally picked up the courage to lift his head from his knees, afraid of the emotional response he will have, but realizing that it was inevitable. He lifted his head and turned to look at Richie. _FUCK. How can anyone be this perfect?_ He was staring into the face of a man who basically held his heart in his hands, and he was starting to realize that he didn’t mind that at all. He would die for Richie time and time again, if it meant that he got to look at his face forever (even as a ghost). He still had a collection of freckles stretching from one cheek to another, and glasses that framed his face perfectly without taking up most of the space but still magnified his eyes to the extreme. _His eyes are like chocolate candy._ Eddie could stare into those deep brown eyes without blinking, drowning in the warmth that he always found there. But now Richie’s eyes mostly reflected deep sadness, and Eddie felt a searing pain in his chest, only now attempting to realize how him leaving Derry might have affected the tall man.

 

“Hey, Eds,” said Richie, his expression mostly unreadable, hidden behind a small smile and sad eyes.

 

“Really? Eds again?” responded Eddie, desperately trying to ignore the jump that his heart made at hearing the nickname.

 

“Alright,” Richie scoffed, “Edward Kaspbrak, how are you?”

 

“I mean, I’m here, so I must be doing great.” Eddie didn’t know how to hold a conversation with that man anymore. What was he even allowed to say?

 

“Still so feisty, Spaghetti. You haven’t changed a bit.” Richie was smiling hard now, noticing the cozy look of a big sweatshirt and sweatpants on Eddie, paired with black leather dancing shoes.

 

“Yeah, well, you haven’t changed much either.” Eddie kept staring at Richie’s face that was all too familiar to him, the feeling of the tall boy’s presence slowly suffocating him, and he couldn’t tell if he liked it or not.

 

Richie kept quiet for a little while, drinking in the small man’s features. Eddie’s head was rested sideways on his arms that were folded on top of his knees that he pressed against his body – the image so adorable that Richie’s chest felt too tight to breathe normally. The beautiful brown doe eyes were looking straight into his soul, and Eddie’s tousled brown curls were framing his face surrounded by a halo that the sunlight was making behind him. _So fucking perfect._ It was then that Richie decided that he has to figure out what happened between them, but he will take his time – he will ease into it, unsure whether Eddie would want to speak to him outside of work.

 

“Stop staring, you’re creeping me the fuck out,” said Eddie with zero distaste in his voice, a blush creeping up his cheeks that he tried to conceal by rubbing his face into the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Richie wanted to bubble his cuteness up and carry with him everywhere so that the warm feeling in his chest never left him.

 

“I haven’t seen you in years, _Eds_ ,” said Richie, emphasizing the nickname to get the reaction out of a small boy, “I think I’m allowed to inspect your cute face.” _Why is this so easy? After all this time, talking to him should_ _’_ _ve been hard._

 

“And to be fair, you seem to be interested in my handsome face too, so don’t complain,” Richie added, earning an annoyed scoff and an eye roll from the petite man.

 

“You’re about as handsome as a garbage truck downtown,” said Eddie, barely able to hide his smile and the reality of the fact that he thought Richie looked _really fucking HOT._

 

“Whatever you have to say to yourself so you can sleep at night, Eddie-Spaghetti.”

 

“Yeah, because I think about you before I go to sleep.” _Every night._

“I think about your cute face every day, Eds. You don’t see me complaining,” said Richie, hoping that Eddie will think that it was just one of his jokes.

 

“Cut the crap, Rich. What are you actually doing here?” asked Eddie, desperately hoping that he’s the reason.

 

“I think you know exactly why I’m here, Eddie.” Richie’s face suddenly got serious, and Eddie stared at him with annoyed expectation.

 

“Mrs. K hasn’t been responding to my calls, so I got a job here to ask for her new number,” said Richie, barely holding himself from laughing out loud.

 

“Mom jokes? Really, Rich?” Eddie rolled his eyes so far that he thought he saw his previous lifetimes in the back of his head. _You_ _’_ _ve got to be fucking kidding me._

“Relax, Kaspbrak. I have a job here now. Ya happy?” responded Richie, making a ridiculous face, getting a little annoyed with the lack of joking response from the small man.

 

“So you just happened to get a job at the same exact place as me in one of the biggest fucking cities in the world?”

 

“Yeah, because my life-long mission is to stalk you at every turn, making sure that I creep behind dark alleyways in case you walk past.”

 

“Oh my God. You still can’t hold a conversation like a normal human being.” Eddie was getting really frustrated now. He loved the fact that pretty much nothing about Richie changed but he was unable to fling his arms around him in a tight hug, and that just made him want to cry. _God, I feel like a child._

“And you lost all ability to joke around, so I guess it all worked out in the end,” said Richie with prominent sadness in his voice. Both haven’t talked for a couple of minutes, staring ahead, not knowing what to ask and what to say.

 

“Hey, I know this is weird but I really want this job, and we just have to make it work. Okay?” Richie was suddenly serious which Eddie wasn’t used to at all. The question startled the small man, but Richie had a very warm expression on his face, and Eddie automatically relaxed.

 

“Sure. Fine.” Eddie didn’t know what else to say. He felt like he was walking on eggshells around his former friend. He felt his chest sting at the realization that they might not see each other outside of work.

“Well, I’m gonna go hug Marsh again. Seems like we have a lot to catch up on,” said Richie getting up from the floor. Eddie heard a couple of his bones crack and wondered if the tall boy was taking care of himself. _I always took care of him. Wait, is anyone taking care of him now?!_ A pang of jealousy enveloped Eddie’s body, and he tried his hardest to hide the bitter expression on his face, apparently to no avail.

 

“Damn, Spaghetti, do I annoy you that much?” Eddie shook his head a little to change the expression.

 

“What? Oh. No. I’m… I’m happy you’re gonna work here.” Eddie tried really hard to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks again and looked down on the floor instead of Richie’s humongous brown eyes.

 

“Did you just say something nice to me? This is monumental progress, Eds.” Richie made a dramatic move where he put a hand over his heart and bulged his eyes out, making them appear bigger _if that was even possible._ Eddie thought it was adorable, but he rolled his eyes nonetheless.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it, trashmouth. And don’t fucking call me that.” He now couldn’t help but give Richie a warm smile, especially since the tall man’s face basically split in two from the grin that the old nickname produced.

 

Richie decided that he would rather leave it on a positive note and swiftly turned around to walk in the direction of the theater. There were too many thoughts in his head, and he didn’t even know how to distinguish one from another. _Why did he leave me? Does he have a boyfriend? What is his favorite food now? Why is he with Bev?_ He loved seeing Eddie but hated it at the same time because the pain in his chest was so much worse now than even in those years that they were apart. But talking to Eddie felt like a breath of fresh air that he didn’t take in a very long time. _Talking to him felt like home_. Richie walked into the theater, headed for the stage, determined to know everything about Eddie’s new life and how he can win him back.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeesh, the angsty awkward situations are essential, but it will all get better! I know it's a little short but I didn't want to extend it yet because I'm planning on making the next couple of chapters reaaally long. Please feel free to comment. Thank you for reading!


	4. New Year’s, 1994

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'The Loser's Club' celebrate the approaching 1995.

Bev was giggling maniacally as she squeezed the two boys together. Richie wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill Beverly at that moment or thank her since the tightness in his pants was getting way too noticeable for a public scene.

“You guys are my best friends,” slurred Bev, smiling from ear to ear, bouncing around the edge of the kitchen where the boys stood by the counter with alcohol.

“You are our best friend too, Marsh. You seem like you’ve had enough spirits in you for one night,” said Richie grinning, watching Bev snatch Eddie by his hands and dance with him around the kitchen.

Richie watched Eddie and Beverly dancing, completely entranced with the boy’s movements. Eddie was always great at dancing, and Richie was left wondering on many of their drunk sleepovers why the small boy never joined the cheerleading team or a dance class or something. _He would look so fucking good in tight leggings._ Slowly sipping on his beer, he was eye fucking Eddie without even knowing it, a hand in the pocket of his jeans stretching them upwards, so nobody sees the lump in his pants. Eddie just started to calm down from their interaction when he saw the way Richie was looking at him, eyes never leaving his body. Richie’s eyes were so dark that Eddie thought he could feel his tongue in his throat already. Richie couldn’t take the torture anymore and tried to stroll out of the room when he was stopped by stumbling Stan and Bill who were now holding hands, their foreheads sweaty from an hour of non-stop dancing.

“You guys, this party is so great! This is so fun.” Stanley’s speech was a little slurred, and his casual green button-down was halfway open, revealing a fairly hairless torso. 

“Yeah, it is, Stan the Man! You two took grinding on the dance floor to a whole new level.” Richie smacked his hand on Stan’s shoulder, grinning at two red faces in front of him. Stan and Bill instantly unclenched their hands, embarrassed that they didn’t notice it earlier.

“Shut up, Richie,” muttered Stanley, not really knowing how to deal with this situation, too drunk to make up a good comeback.

Stan stopped shooting daggers at Richie when he noticed Bill joining the dancing in the middle of the kitchen, accompanying Eddie and Bev in their odd version of salsa. The three of them were giggling, and Richie noticed the soft expression on Stanley’s face, wondering if that’s what he looks like when he observes Eddie. He stopped looking at the trio when he started feeling the all too familiar tugging feeling in his chest and decided to find someone to make out with.

“Adios, amigos.” Richie waived to them and quickly left the room, leaving Eddie feeling abandoned and disappointed.

“Eddie, what’s wrong? Why did you stop moving?” asked Bev, thoroughly upset that her partner wasn’t participating in her drunk swaying: she loved dancing with Eddie who was very well coordinated and almost her height. She noticed from the corner of her eye that Stan and Bill sneaked back out to the living room hand in hand.

“I... I think I need a drink to continue,” said Eddie with a very sad expression on his face, realizing that he can’t go through this night sober.

Eddie walked over to the ‘bar’ again, finally able to finish the drink he was trying to make earlier. Richie was so close to his face before; he even thought he might be brave enough to make a move. He has been in love with Richie for as long as he could remember, or as long as he knew what the difference between ‘friend’ and ‘more than a friend’ love is. He didn’t really know what to do with it when he did discover it, but he tried his best to keep acting as a friend, even if Richie’s face was the last thing he thought about before he fell asleep. It didn’t help that they had sleepovers more times than they didn’t, and Richie was always hugging him from behind, making Eddie feel those tiny punches in his stomach over and over again. Eddie also tried to ignore Richie poking his ass in the morning, blaming it on normal human anatomy and boy’s hormones. Now that he stood by the counter, quickly downing his first cup and overlooking the living room full of confident grinding teenagers, he felt that he could never be like that – he will never be okay with the feelings he had and even worse so – they will always be one-sided.

“You know; I might be drunk, but I’m not stupid.” Beverly came up to where Richie was standing before, pushing Eddie out of the world of his thoughts.

“What do you mean?” Eddie said overlooking her. She was definitely the most gorgeous girl in the school. If he wasn’t that into Richie, he would certainly have a crush on Bev.

“I mean that you are both drooling over each other and it’s painfully obvious,” said Beverly, watching as a beet red blush was creeping on Eddie’s neck and face. She didn’t want to be so blunt because she didn’t want to mess with someone else’s business, but their attraction to each other was obvious to absolutely every single person in the school. 

“I’m not... he’s not... we’re not... I-I don’t...” Eddie was finding it very hard to form coherent sentences. The alcohol was spreading through his body way too quickly, and Bev’s words were pounding in his ears as if someone used his head to play drums.

“Hey, calm down. I know we never talked about it, but I want you to know that you can always come talk to me about what you feel. And before you say anything, I know for a fact that Richie has a thing for you because he almost never stops talking about you, or staring at your ass from the distance when we smoke.” Beverly blurted out before she thought better of it. She was tired of the two boys eye-fucking each other without actually, well, _fucking_. The sexual tension between the two was so high that sitting with them on the couch while watching the movies became unbearable.

Eddie downed the rest of his drink with one sip avoiding Bev’s glance, starting to make himself a second one. He was starting to hyperventilate because he never admitted to anyone that he was in love with his best friend. He was also a bit disappointed that he was being obvious – Eddie tried very hard to hide his feelings, but he realized that blushing is not something he could wish away and Richie was making him blush _every fucking day_. He felt Bev’s hand on his shoulder, its comforting warmth spreading through Eddie and calming his nerves. He looked back at her with a sad, shy smile. He didn’t really know what to say and whether he needed to – she obviously observed his behavior long enough to know.

“I don’t know what to do, Bev. I’m not sure I’m even comfortable with it myself,” said Eddie, feeling safe to talk to Beverly about this, knowing that she will keep it between the two of them.

“Hey, I’m in no way a love expert, but I know the signals. You two are fucking destined to be together, I’m sure of it. And if you don’t get laid soon, this entire house will explode along with your balls,” said Beverly laughing, seeing that Eddie’s eyes were ready to roll out of their sockets. His horrified expression was followed by even more blushing.

“I can’t believe that I’m that obvious,” muffled Eddie behind his hands which now covered his face. He was embarrassed beyond belief and didn’t even want to know if Bev noticed the pants tent he had before she slammed into them. She did.

“Eddie, it’s okay. You don’t have to be ashamed of your feelings. I’m serious – we all love both of you, and anyone would be happy to see you together,” said Beverly with so much love in her voice that Eddie felt his eyes water. It was an immense relief to talk about this with someone, especially someone like her.

“Thank you, Bev. Have you seen what he was wearing? That’s just not okay,” blurted Eddie, automatically covering his mouth with his hands, realizing that he might have overshared a bit. Bev’s giggle made him relax a little.

“I know; he looks very hot. But I promise you he only has eyes for you. And you look like the most delicious fucking desert on the planet,” she said, smiling and bopping his tiny nose affectionately, earning the cutest giggle. Eddie was getting pretty tipsy, and he started to feel giddy and as if every single person in the world deserved a hug.

Eddie was just starting to feel better and more confident when he saw Richie above Bev’s shoulder standing outside with a girl, more like attacking her with his mouth. His moves were more aggressive than usual as if he was trying to consume his consciousness with that kiss. His hands were gripping the girl’s face so hard that his fingers were visibly white. Eddie saw him kiss other people plenty of times, but it still stung him hard enough for tears to start forming. Beverly noticed his expression and spun around to see what he was looking at. _Fucking Tozier_. She felt anger boiling inside her, knowing full well that Richie was only doing this to either get Eddie jealous or convince himself that he didn’t have feelings for his best friend. Either way, he was lying to himself, and she had to do something about it.

“Eddie, I will...” she turned back to the little boy who was already squeezing through the crowd of people in the living room, holding a bottle of vodka and cranberry juice in his hands. Bev felt a pang of guilt for giving him so much confidence in Richie’s feelings before making sure that Richie is ready to make a move. This was promising to be a tough night.

 

  

Richie pulled away from a girl he didn’t even know the name of, nausea creeping up on him. _What am I doing? I hate this_. She tasted like cheap beer and was drooling all over her mouth, and he felt sick to his stomach. _This is supposed to be Eddie. I should be kissing Eddie._ The thoughts of Eddie were impossible to push away when he was drinking, and now he was struggling to even kiss other people. He has to do something about this and soon. As he stood there trying to push off a sack of drool in front of him he felt a body slam into his, dragging him to the side of the house where the music wasn’t so loud.

“What the fuck are you thinking?!” Beverly screamed on top of her lungs, anger boiling inside of her. She never got mad at Richie before, but his irresponsible behavior was finally getting to her.

“What do you mean? The fuck are you yelling for?!” Richie’s expression was genuinely hurt, and Bev decided to calm down a little and try not to traumatize him.

“Why are you making out with fucking Jen Case? She is hot but the most disgusting girl in the school. You don’t want to know where her mouth has been, Rich.” Beverly was attacked by Jen during one of the parties – the girl really tried to sleep with everyone.

“Bevvy, you know my bed is never empty either.” Richie’s brain was short-circuiting from the creeping thoughts of Eddie in his bed, and he started visibly shaking his head.

“Here. We need to talk,” she handed him a cigarette, handing the light and holding one in her mouth in expectation of him joining her.

“What do we need to talk about? We don’t talk seriously, Marsh, that’s not our thing,” said Richie, inhaling way too much smoke at a first drag.

“Maybe it fucking should be. Why are you kidding yourself with other people? You only want one person in this entire shitty town,” said Beverly, noticing Richie tense up.

“I don’t want anyone in particular. I don’t know where you got that idea from,” said Richie, feeling his heartbeat quicken in anticipation of what Bev was about to say. 

“Eddie is miserable too, in case you didn’t notice, dumbass.” Beverly rolled her eyes and hit Richie in the chest, trying to shake off the alcohol and sober him up for a second to have that conversation.

Richie choked on the smoke. He knew that he didn’t hide his feelings well, staring at Eddie all day long and touching him any opportunity he had. But he really didn’t know anyone noticed. Now that he thought of it, Bev was always smirking at him when he stared at Eddie for too long, or when Eddie was snuggled next to him on the couch, making Richie’s stomach turn into a million knots.

“Hey, calm down. I don’t know why you’re fucking reacting like this; there’s nothing wrong with what you’re feeling.” Bev was now smiling from ear to ear, her long suspicion of Richie’s feelings finally confirmed.

“Bev, he’s my best friend. I can’t do this to him,” said Richie, tears forming in his eyes from more than just the excess of smoke.

“Do what to him? Make him the happiest guy in the world? Are you really that fucking thick? He is obsessed with you, haven’t you felt it?” Beverly was getting extremely frustrated with how slowly the two of them were realizing their feelings for each other.

“You’re wrong. I make passes on Eddie every fucking day. If he wanted to do something, he would’ve by now,” said Richie, a stinging sensation in his chest spreading faster than he could talk.

“I could say the same about you. Flirting and pinching his butt is not the same as saying that you’re in love.” Bev knew way too much about people wanting to take advantage of her just to have fun, and that was nothing like love.

“I can’t… He doesn’t feel that way about me, I know it.” Richie was growing really impatient with Bev’s assumptions, and all he wanted was to get more alcohol in his system.

“Look, Eddie ran upstairs with a full bottle of vodka. You know how lightweight he is. Even if you don’t want to confess to him, he only wanted to get drunk because of you, so it’s your responsibility to take care of him.”

“Shit. Okay, I’ll find him.” Richie quickly threw a cigarette on the ground, his expression getting extremely serious out of concern for Eddie. Eddie gets drunk very quickly, and the whole bottle of vodka might just kill him.

Richie pushed through a crowd of people in the living room to get to the stairs, quietly cursing at everyone who was bumping into him on the way. He accidentally pushed Mike who was _still making out with that blond chick how did his tongue not fall off yet,_ and heard Mike’s cursing as he bolted up the stairs. The hallways and bedrooms were full of people so he knew that’s not where Eddie would be. Bill’s bedroom was locked with a sock on the door, and that made Richie laugh out loud. _Damn, for someone who_ _’_ _s been flirting for years they move fast._ The bathrooms were already full of lightweights puking everywhere, so that’s also out of the question. Richie got to Georgie’s room which was always locked and found an entrance to the attic open, realizing that it was the only place outsiders wouldn’t know about, and one that Eddie loved a lot. He climbed the small stairs, his heart pounding in his chest from worry and the anticipation of seeing Eddie.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I intended this to be much longer but the second part got away from me because IT IS SO DESCRIPTIVE, but it's better on its own, so don't hate me pls!! I promise the next part of this flashback will be hella gratifying. Please leave your comments, I love constructive criticism and any sort of feedback *__*


	5. August, 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beverly and Richie privately reunite, and Eddie receives a shocking surprise on Saturday afternoon.

It has now officially been a week since Eddie Kaspbrak’s world was turned upside down. Seeing Richie again has messed up everything he worked hard to get: his dancing was disorganized, his mental health has plummeted back to the abyss, and he found himself thinking about going to the bar more times than he’d admit. The dance rehearsals became pretty much unbearable with his neck prickling with the feel of Richie’s eyes on him, and the awkward smiles they gave each other throughout the workday. Bev went out with Richie a couple of times to catch up on everything, the first time being the night that they reunited…

  

Bev and Richie sat on the stools of a dingy bar a couple of blocks from the theater, munching on peanuts and each drinking their third beer. The excitement that their reunion brought was taking over their rational behavior (which they didn’t have much of, to begin with), so they ended up drinking faster and more than they intended. Eddie headed out home right after the rehearsal merely waving to the two of them before he basically bolted out of the entrance. Richie was frustrated that Eddie didn’t even want to catch up but couldn’t really blame him – things were way too awkward between them at the moment. So here he was, sitting with none other than Beverly Marsh, already pretty much plastered because of course, neither of them ate _since basically yesterday._

“So please explain to me again how you ended up living with Eddie Kaspbrak of all people?” Richie had tears in his eyes from laughing at Bev’s stories from when she took business classes at a community college, and that’s how they got on the topic of her managing the tiny dancer.

“Um… Well, I moved to New York City a year after he left, as you know, and bumped into him at a café next to our apartment of all places. We spent the whole night talking, and since I haven’t gotten a place anywhere yet, he offered for me to stay until I did. But eventually, we liked living with each other so much that I stayed and helped with rent.” Richie couldn’t help but notice the warmth in Beverly’s voice. _They really are very close now._

“And how does that arrangement even fucking work? Spaghetti is the neatest person in the world because of his fucked up mother, and you smoke more than the CEO of Marlboro. Or is this one of those situations where you pay him with your body and he takes care of you?” he had to stop talking because everything was _so damn funny_ to both of them, and they couldn’t control their mouths at all from the strong and cheap alcohol.

“First, it would have to be him selling me his body because lesbihonest I would be the Dom, and, well, he cleans and cooks, and I pay pretty much all of the bills and work for him 24/7. It seems to work in his favor, especially since he pays me REALLY well.”

“Eds as a domesticated housewife… Mmm, what an image,” murmured Richie, gulping down his beer while picturing Eddie with nothing but an apron on. _Fuck._

“Oh God, you’re insufferable. No wonder he can’t stop talking about you even after all these years,” blurted Bev, realizing too late that she might’ve overshared, bulging her eyes out a little.

“What the fuck do you mean, Marsh?” _Eddie, talking about me? There_ _’_ _s no way._

“He doesn’t exactly start the conversations, so don’t get too excited. It’s more of a ‘I start talking about the Losers, and he joins in by remembering every little thing you did wrong as a kid.”

“Well damn, I’m still flattered that my Spaghetti-man didn’t forget about me.”

“ _Your_ Spaghetti-man? He’s hardly yours now, is he?” said Beverly with a smirk.

“Why, is he seeing someone? Have they been together long?” _FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK NO._

“Oh my God, your face is truly priceless right now. I can’t believe you still have a thing for him. And no, he’s not seeing anyone. I actually haven’t seen him go out with anyone since I moved in,” said Bev with a laughing mocking tone, hoping to get some information about Richie’s feelings.

“Okay, w-well that’s good. I’m… um… happy that he isn’t throwing his beautiful tiny body around,” said Richie, screams of happiness erupting inside his head, also trying to ignore what Bev said about him _having a thing for Eddie still what does she even mean._ They stayed silent for a while until Richie finally asked her a question that he’s been dying to ask since he saw her & Eddie together in one room.

“How come you never told me that you lived with him?” his tone was noticeably sad now, and she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for not letting him know. But she knew he would come rushing to their address to try to figure out the issues between him and Eddie, and she wasn’t sure that the small man was ready for that.

“Hey, don’t be mad at me. We barely ever talked on the phone and I told you everything there was to know without involving Eddie. I knew how things were between you two and I wasn’t sure if he was ready to see you. I’m sorry, but it really wasn’t my place to tell,” said Bev, feeling extremely bad for Richie, remembering the first year that Eddie left and the number of times she had to comfort Richie’s drunk sobbing. _God, he cried so much._

“Fuck. I know. I just… How did he end up being a dancer, for fuck’s sake?” replied Richie, smiling at the image of Eddie in sweatpants and dance shoes.

“God, I don’t know. That was before me. But he’s really fucking good at it, you should see him perform,” said Bev smiling with a noticeable amount of pride in her voice.

“Eds in tight pants? Now I know the name of my next hit song.”

“Just don’t ever tell him that,” laughed Bev, finishing up her beer and trying to think through the drunken haze of her mind on how to get the two men together.

“Hey, you want a smoke?” asked Richie, pulling out an almost empty pack of red Marlboro’s.

“I thought you’d never ask, Tozier.”

They stepped outside into the comfortably chilly night air of New York city after Bev left some cash for their ridiculously cheap beer. They smoked the first cigarette in silence, reveling in the feeling of reminiscence and companionship that they haven’t felt in years. Even though they rarely spoke since she left Derry, they hit it off as if nothing happened, their emotional closeness bringing them comfort that they missed since high school. Bev was always Richie’s smoking buddy, and they got especially close after New Year’s during their senior year. Richie shared almost everything with Bev – well, everything that he couldn’t tell Eddie because he didn’t want him to worry, and the small boy was so focused on his studying to get into the best school that Richie didn’t want to take that opportunity away from him. Sometimes, he found himself lying in bed late at night and cursing himself for not distracting Eddie more – _maybe then he would’ve stayed in Derry_. But he knew that it was selfish, and Eddie deserved to get away from his horrible mother, even if Richie couldn’t get away from his parents. Richie had almost the best grades out of the entire school, and his parents had enough money to last him a lifetime, but he couldn’t escape the family drama even if he moved, and he stayed in Derry to fix his damaged family, knowing full well that college would be too boring for him anyway. He was pulled out of his depressing thoughts by beaming Beverly.

“Hey, do you want to come over on the weekend? We could drink some normal beer and eat pizza, and watch the movies that we used to watch on our sleepovers. Don’t worry, Eddie will be out,” she said, lighting a second cigarette. She knew Eddie wouldn’t be out, but she was kind of hoping to get them together in one room that they can’t escape from and make up an excuse later to sneak out of the apartment.

“Sure, Marsh. Thank you dearly, milady. I will make sure to bring some splendid buttered biscuits to please thy culinary tastes,” said Richie with a broken British accent, grinning wide at the prospect of them properly hanging out. Bev grinned and finished the second cigarette before planting a kiss on Richie’s cheek and heading out to her and Eddie’s apartment, hoping to keep Richie’s visit a secret for as long as possible.

 

Eddie woke up Saturday morning with a hard resolve to get hammered. He couldn’t get the damn Tozier out of his head with his _black shiny messy curls, and long fingers and dark chocolate eyes DAMN HIM_. Eddie tried really hard to concentrate but even his dancing was suffering now, and he knew he couldn’t practice anymore because his ankle was on the verge of a tear and he couldn’t risk losing his spot on the show, so he wrapped his ankles in leg warmers and walked around the apartment, wallowing in his depressing state. Bev was already sitting on the window in the living room, puffing the smoke out of the window, both legs resting on the fire escape. She started writing again a month ago and now carried a notebook with her everywhere which pleased Eddie immensely – he loved her poetry. She did these amazing metaphoric pieces about Pennywise and her dad, and they were incredibly powerful and could honestly relate to anyone since she didn’t actually name either of them – it was more about dealing with fear and dealing with your inner demons. Eddie decided not to bother her creative process and quietly stepped into the kitchen to make them breakfast. He poured the water into the pot and set it on the stove, pulling eggs out of the fridge to make him and Bev his favorite egg white omelet. He loved cooking almost as much as he liked dancing, but it was more of a hobby for him – something that he was only willing to share with people very close to him. He rolled up the sleeves of his university alumni sweatshirt to crack five egg whites into a bowl, careful not to let any yolk spill. He then threw out the shells to pull out some spinach and mozzarella from the fridge, dropping small pieces into the bowl, along with a little salt and pepper. He was carefully mixing the ingredients when he heard the wheezing sound of a pot which Beverly finally caught, jumping up from the window to greet Eddie. She stubbed out the cigarette on the ashtray and frolicked towards Eddie’s tiny form by the stove, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Let me get that, good sir,” said Bev, picking up the pot and setting it on a cool side of the stove for the sound to subside.

“Oh God, you sound like Richie,” said Eddie, throwing a judgmental glance.

“As if you don’t like his British puns. We hung out a lot this week, so I guess it just rubbed off on me,” said Bev, pulling out two teacups from the cupboard above her.

“I wish he’d just rub off for good,” said Eddie, noticing how his voice sounded more like a whine rather than an angry retort.

“You don’t mean that,” said Bev, shooting him a warm glance with a smirk.

“Maybe not. But I’m not ready to hang out with him yet,” said Eddie, reaching out to get the pan and olive oil.

“Will you ever be ready? I mean, you might avoid him forever if someone doesn’t nudge you,” said Bev, pouring the hot water over the two Earl Grey tea packets. They made a pact a year ago not to drink coffee over the weekend when Eddie read a terrifying article in New York Times about a woman having a heart attack during her morning run after drinking an espresso. Bev didn’t really mind because coffee made her feel anxious anyway.

“If this conversation is your way of nudging me, it’s not going that well,” said the small man, pouring the egg white mixture into a warm pan.

“I’m just saying, no matter what happened between you two, we were all best friends once, and it wouldn’t hurt to try,” she said with resolve in her voice, waking away from the countertops to put the two teacups on the bar top at the end of the kitchen.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

They sat in silence for a while, the only sounds being Bev’s enthusiastic appreciation of Eddie’s cooking. Once they were done, Bev washed both of their dishes and went straight back to the window to smoke yet another cigarette and continue her poetry:

 

_It_ _’_ _s not as if I think I_ _’_ _m not enough,_

_But when my skin recalls the feel_

_Of clutching hands upon my neck_

_I feel like I_ _’_ _m supposed to kneel_

_In front of fears I haven_ _’_ _t dealt with yet._

_\- B. M._

The rest of the afternoon was spent playing Jenga and watching Eddie’s favorite romantic movies. He and Bev attempted to make a lasagna together, but when the latter failed at a simple act of cutting tomatoes, Eddie asked her to save her talents for puffing smoke and writing poetry. Bev laughed out loud, but instead of smoking, she went to her room to make a call, leaving Eddie wondering if she’s going to ditch him to have a date with their ‘hot neighbor cat lady’, as Bev called her. After they had their dinner, Eddie retreated to the bathroom to get ready to go to the bar, with or without Bev. Beverly was sitting on the window pane smoking a cigarette, already changed into her favorite overalls and a t-shirt when she heard a knock on the door, and she quickly threw the cigarette off the fire escape, forgetting even about the ashtray. She opened the door with way too much enthusiasm, jumping straight into Richie’s arms, hugging him so tight he could burst.

“Damn, Bevvy, I know the past 24 hours must’ve been torture without me, but I do need to breathe,” said Richie grinning, hugging the small girl with just as much enthusiasm.

Bev reluctantly stopped hugging him and made some space for him to enter the room. Richie stepped in and looked around their apartment, a warm smile plastered on his face. _This is so Eddie._ The apartment was pretty big for New York but not large enough for more than three people to live together. On the left side of the entrance was a neat kitchen with a lot of cooking appliances. _He still cooks._ In front of him was a spacious living room with a lot of bookshelves and a large Sony TV which he guessed Bev used more than Eddie. To the right were big black windows connected to a fire escape, one of them still open with an ashtray resting on the sill. The image of that whole space made Richie’s heart swell. The place smelled like strawberries, something delicious and a little like cigarettes. _It smelled like home. What took me so long to get here._

“Hey, I brought red wine, hope you don’t mind. I’m still not fully recovered from that disgusting beer that we had on Monday,” said Richie, holding two bottles of red wine in one large hand.

“I fucking love red wine. It’s also Eddie’s favorite, so we might want to leave him the second bottle,” said Bev, making Richie blush a little. _Somehow, Eddie and red wine make total sense._ Their conversation was interrupted by a small voice coming from the end of the hallway.

“Hey, Bev, have you seen my strawberry body wash? I had to shower using my shampoo, but it doesn’t even foam that much and smells like pine, and I don’t like it that much,” said Eddie, walking down the hallway barefoot in only a pale blue towel around his hips, rolling a cotton swab around his left ear, his head down and not noticing a guest in his entrance.

Richie suddenly lifted his head, the unexpected presence of Eddie in the room making his heart thump against his chest vigorously. Eddie finally stepped into the light of the kitchen and Richie felt his mouth go dry and something stir in his lower belly. _He. Looks. So. Good._ Eddie’s hair was still wet with water dripping on his tan shoulders and a hairless torso, the lack of clothing revealing a fairly prominent outline of his abs and a V that led to the sinful baby blue towel barely hanging on his hips. The only hair Eddie really had on his body was mostly on his legs and a barely visible trail of hair that led to his crotch that made Richie’s dick twitch. _Oh my God WHY. Is my mouth open? Oh no. My mouth is open. Close your mouth, Richard!_ His thoughts were interrupted by Eddie lifting his head to meet Richie’s eyes, who noticed how there were still droplets of water on his ridiculously long eyelashes and the small man’s cheeks were rosy, and Richie felt one of his hands relax and one bottle of wine slipping his fingers. He barely had enough time to react to catch it with his other hand, blushing furiously at Eddie’s appearance and his own dumb reaction. _What am I, 16 years old?!_

“I think you ran out of the body wash yesterday, Eddie. You threw it in the trash in the kitchen,” said Beverly, barely holding a laugh from the change in Eddie’s expression when he saw Richie.

“Um… Okay, thanks. Bye.” Eddie felt his entire body become beet red from Richie’s presence and _his dark fucking eyes,_ and he hurried back into his room without even saying 'hi', his brain barely registering the embarrassing situation that just happened.

“Give these to me, you klutz, before they end up on this wooden floor,” said Bev, unclasping the bottles from Richie’s fingers whose gaze was permanently glued onto Eddie’s bedroom’s closed door.

“Earth to Richie. Hey! Are you a fucking teenager, what’s wrong with you?” She found the whole situation extremely amusing since they were both grown 22-year-old men who reacted to each other as if they’ve never seen a naked body before. 

“Huh? What? I-I’m sorry. What?” Richie still couldn’t pull his mind together, the image of Eddie’s eyes and torso permanently engraved into the back of his mind. He took off his glasses and rubbed on the bridge of his nose and eyes to try to shake it off. 

“Richie Tozier, speechless? Well, that’s a first,” said Bev grinning, earning a small shove from the tall man. 

“Shut up, Marsh,” mumbled Richie, blushing feverishly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter so much, hope you did too! Also, I'm not a poet so please don't judge, I was just trying to envision what Bev would write about in her poetry journal. Also, HOW HOT IS EDDIE lol they need to get laid ASAP. Please leave comments :))))
> 
> P.S. Next chapter is going to be FIRE


	6. New Year’s, 1994

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In anticipation of 1995, Eddie and Richie reconcile their relationship.

The small boy was sitting with his legs crossed in front of the huge window that had a view of the full moon, and Richie noticed that the window was slightly open, revealing a beautiful night sky. Eddie hated anything uncomfortable, so he put a ton of old blankets on the ground, the cozy view of it all making Richie even more anxious. He got up very quietly, wanting to take in the view of Eddie in the moonlight before he was spotted. Eddie’s back was to him, and his beautiful brown curls were shining in the moonlight, making Richie’s chest ache. He had a bottle of vodka to his left, and cranberry juice to the right, drinking liquor first and then downing it with juice. He didn’t drink much yet which was a relief to Richie. He slowly made his way to the blankets to sit down next to Eddie. Eddie jumped from the unexpected guest and noticing that it was Richie got noticeably red in the face, embarrassed about the thoughts he was just having of holding Richie’s hand on nights like these.

“J-Jesus Christ, moron, you scared the shit out of me,” said Eddie, his voice shaking with disbelief that Richie actually found him.

“Sorry, Eds. See, I’m attracted to you like a magnet and couldn’t be without you for more than twenty minutes,” said Richie, grinning from ear to ear, making Eddie’s chest hurt.

Richie was just now able to see how beautiful Eddie looked in the moonlight, and he felt his mouth lose all moisture. Eddie’s huge brown eyes were always shining, but now they were _fucking glowing._ Richie’s heart started beating faster as Eddie shifted his gaze to look back at the moon, and saw the small boy’s long eyelashes flutter, their shadow visible on his perfect freckled cheeks. Eddie knew that Richie was staring but dismissed it since Richie was always staring at him. He shifted uncomfortably on the spot, the thoughts of Richie’s hands on him creeping up on his mind uncontrollably.

“The moon is beautiful tonight,” said Eddie, looking at Richie with an expectation of an answer. Richie didn’t look at the moon once since he sat down next to Eddie.

“Um… Yeah, I guess it is,” mumbled Richie, knowing full well that Eddie is prettier than anything in this fucking universe and he could care less about the moon.

“Rich, you didn’t even look at it,” said Eddie quietly, a blush creeping on his cheeks from the unwavering gaze of Richie Tozier.

“I just don’t think it can even compare to how you look right now, Eddie-Spaghetti.” Richie blurted it out without thinking, a choking fear creeping up in his throat, the alcohol making him too blunt for his own good.

“Shut up, Tozier,” said Eddie, trying to hide a smile and turning away from Richie to grab a bottle of vodka to drown the thoughts of Richie’s dark eyes on him. Richie saw what he was doing and leaned across Eddie’s body to snatch the bottle from him. Eddie’s proximity suddenly made him so nervous that his elbow weakened as he reached for the bottle, and he ended up pretty much falling on top of Eddie to grab the vodka. He quickly went back to his previous position, already feeling a tightness in his pants. 

“Hey, what the fuck, trashmouth?! That’s not yours!” Eddie squealed, jumping on top of Richie to straddle him on his lap, desperately trying to reach for the bottle with his short arms as Richie laughingly gulped down the liquor.

“Eds, you’re too tiny, you will never reach it,” said Richie, giggling as the small boy squirmed in his lap trying to reach his long arms. Richie looked straight at Eddie as he hid the bottle behind his back, grinning from ear to ear but also sweating because Eddie _smelled like fucking candy_ and was sitting _straight on his dick_ and _his lips are so fucking beautiful_ and _why the fuck is he biting his bottom lip does he want me to die?!_

“Hey, I came here to drink. You don’t get to show up at my hiding place and raid my stash,” said Eddie with a pouting expression, fully aware of how close Richie was, and his intoxicating smell was making Eddie lightheaded.

“Okay, Eds…”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

“Okay, _my love_. Why don’t we play a game,” said Richie, giggling at Eddie rolling his eyes at the nickname.

“Stop calling me stupid shit and just give me my drink back already,” said Eddie, Richie’s dark eyes eating straight into his soul and making his dick twitch.

“If you stopped fighting me for a fucking second, _Kaspbrak_ , this could actually be fun,” said Richie, getting really frustrated with the wiggling in his lap that was making him unbearably hard. He was wondering if Eddie could feel his boner since he was sitting straight on top of it.

“Fine. Let’s play whatever lame fucking game you want to play, _Tozier_ ,” sassed Eddie, responding to the serious tone of the tall boy. Richie raised his eyebrows to the comeback, putting a bottle behind him and to the side, leaning on his palms but staying very close to Eddie’s face. Eddie put his hands on top of his own thighs, refusing to move from Richie’s lap. He was so close to his mouth that he felt he might faint any second.

“Okay, Spaghetti-man. For every answer to one of my questions you get to have a gulp of your beloved vodka but you have to answer honestly and drink a lot of cranberry juice afterward,” said Richie, thinking that if he doesn’t get to grind against Eddie soon, _he might just_ _fucking die._

“Deal. Ask away,” said Eddie smirking and biting his bottom lip, leaving Richie to feel like he might explode _right fucking there._

“Alrighty-o. How often do you jerk off?” Richie thought that if he can’t be with the boy, he could at least ask him about his sex life.

“Oh, fuck this,” said Eddie, trying to leave Richie’s lap. Richie grabbed the boy by the thighs, and he could swear he heard a small moan escape Eddie’s mouth. The sound made him feel things that were too strong to even comprehend.

“Oh no, Eds. You don’t get to escape from this,” said Richie, squeezing the boy’s thighs to prevent him from moving, staring at Eddie’s face intensely.

“It’s not fair to ask this shit, dickhead,” whined Eddie, slapping his hands on top of Richie’s on his thighs to prevent the tall boy from squeezing them because _it felt too fucking good to even think about it_ and he literally felt like he came a thousand times already.

“Just tell me, Eds. Don’t be shy.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.” Eddie finally felt Richie’s hands relax a bit but noticed that he didn’t let go of his thighs.

“C’mon. Rules are rules. You don’t get to drink until I get an answer,” said Richie, basically drooling at the proximity of the little boy.

“Fine. Um… Maybe… I don’t know… Once a week?” Eddie tried to look anywhere but at Richie’s face whose eyes were rolling out of their sockets, mouth agape.

“What?! That’s it?! Now wonder you’re always such a ball of anger, Eds. I would be fucking livid. Do you want me to provide assistance?” screamed Richie, instantly thinking of how often he would’ve jerked Eddie off if they were together.

“Shut up and give me my vodka,” said Eddie, a blush creeping up on his cheeks. He really needed a drink.

Richie leaned back to get the bottle, handing it to the small boy. He couldn’t take his eyes off Eddie, still not believing that he was this close to him. They were always physically close, but this position was almost criminal. His heart was beating so fast from looking at Eddie gulp down the drink, their eyes connecting in unspoken lust and affection. Eddie grabbed the cranberry juice from the side and drank a little more than the liquor, a bit of the liquid escaping his mouth. Without thinking, Richie reached out to wipe the juice with his thumb, licking off the excess liquid. Eddie sat in front of him, mouth open, his groin _in so much fucking pain_ he felt his dick _might actually fall off after tonight._ Richie quickly realized what he’d done but decided that he didn’t care anymore – he needs to see if Beverly was right – he needs to see Eddie’s reactions to him. Eddie was still replaying Richie licking off cranberry juice from his thumb when the tall boy took his hands off his thighs leaving Eddie feeling like he wishes he didn’t, but he thought it might be easier to breathe this way. Richie took a sip of vodka without touching cranberry juice, all the while not leaving Eddie’s eyes.

“Okay, Eds. Question number two. How many people did you fuck?” Richie was praying that Eddie was a virgin; the things he could teach him and show him for the first time were making Richie even harder _if that was even fucking possible._

Eddie has never been mortified more in his life. He could feel the panic attack bloom in his chest, but he started to breathe calmly to settle down. He didn’t want Richie to know that he didn’t have anyone – it was bad enough that Richie himself was very experienced. But he thought that being a complete novice to sex will only make him more unattractive to Richie. Little did he know that Richie was terrified of hearing that Eddie has had someone.

“I didn’t... I’ve never had sex with anyone,” said Eddie shyly, knowing full well that the truth would’ve come out eventually. Richie is too nosey not to find out, and since they were graduating soon, the question would’ve come up during one of the ‘truth-or-dare’ escapades which were coincidentally almost always initiated by Richie.

“Yum.” Richie blurted without thinking. He was now smiling like a fucking 6-year-old holding the biggest lollipop, although his lollipop was also the most fucking delicious (he assumed) and cutest lollipop in the world. Richie was looking at Eddie with a new light, taking in all of the beautiful features of his face, wanting so much to be the one to make Eddie scream for the first time.

Eddie pushed Richie to reach for the bottle, creasing his eyebrows in confusion over Richie’s comment. He was expecting Richie to laugh or make a joke out of what he just said, but Richie only smiled his _sexy fucking smile_ and looked at Eddie as if he was the last meal of his life – it was making Eddie’s already tight khakis almost unbearable. Richie didn’t even try to fight the push, instead leaning back and folding an arm under his head, all the while staring at a perfect boy sitting in his lap, drinking his vodka-cranberry concoction. Richie didn’t know how much longer of this he could take and didn’t know what would explode faster: his heart or his pants. It suddenly dawned on Richie that he should’ve asked a different question first.

“Eds.” Richie’s voice was low and raspy, and it made Eddie choke on the cranberry juice.

“Hm?” was all Eddie could muster, seeing that he was basically choking on top of Richie, ignoring even the hated nickname because of how good it sounded when Richie said it.

“You’re really having trouble drinking that fucking juice, man.” Richie giggled, earning a soft squeeze on his hips that made him a little lightheaded.

“Shut up, asshole.” Eddie grimaced, putting cranberry juice further away from himself, realizing that drinking any more of this cocktail could cost him his life.

“How many people did you kiss?” Richie’s groin was whining with anticipation, hoping that the answer would also be none. He realized it might be a little selfish, and he should probably root for Eddie to get laid like any other best friend would, but he was sure that no one could kiss and touch Eddie as he could.

“How many people are in the Loser’s Club?” Eddie smirked, leaning a little forward resting the palms of his hands on either side of Richie’s chest. Richie was a bit disappointed with the answer, remembering all the times they played spin the bottle. He tried to concentrate on the conversation, attempting to ignore how _fucking hot_ Eddie looked leaning on top of him.

“You never kissed me, Kaspbrak.” Eddie thought he heard a bit of disappointment in his voice. _It_ _’_ _s the booze talking, Eddie. Stop overthinking._

“I didn’t kiss them voluntarily, idiot. It was always either a dare or the fucking bottle,” said Eddie with displeasure, remembering wishing each time they played that damn game for the bottle to rest on Richie.

“It’s not my fault the stupid thing never turned to me,” said Richie repeating Eddie’s thoughts, reaching out with his other hand to play with Eddie’s sleeve that was rolled on the small boy’s elbow, trying to distract himself from all the images flowing around his intoxicated head.

“That would’ve been more fun than kissing any of them for sure,” scoffed Eddie, his expression suddenly becoming serious from the realization of what he just drunkenly blurted out. He could swear he noticed Richie stop breathing.

“Eddie, are you saying that you WANTED it to be me?” asked Richie, looking Eddie dead in the eye, his own gaze so dark he could practically take the small boy’s clothes off handless. He was also holding onto Eddie’s lower arm now, covering Eddie’s entire body in goosebumps and waves of small electrical currents. Eddie was in such shock from hearing Richie say his full name, and in that _low raspy fucking voice_ and he smelled like fucking _life itself,_ and it was all too much; the energy in the room felt heavy and forbidden. Eddie leaned back in the sitting position, fully considering jumping out of the window into the pile of snow to cool the fuck down. Richie also took a sitting position craving to be closer to Eddie in any way possible. But now he put his hands on Eddie’s hips and for the first time heard Eddie’s breath hitch. He noticed Eddie looking at his lips, and he lost all ability to move. _What now?_ What if he was getting the signals messed up? What if he just wanted this so badly to be real that he’s making more out of it than there is? All the while, Eddie was having a crisis of his own.

First of all, he finally noticed Richie’s hard _very fucking hard_ dick pressing into him and the thought of him making that happen actually made it hard for him to breathe. He was looking at Richie’s beautiful, well-defined face, a full moon reflected in his eyes and he thought that there is no one in the world he loves more than Richie. His hands on his hips were creating a full-on crisis in his mind and body, but all of this felt so right that it made Eddie’s chest ache. _What the fuck am I supposed to do?_ Eddie remembered the image of Richie kissing that girl, but he was here with him now, so close, smelling like cigarettes and booze and Richie _which was the best fucking combination in the world_ and he didn’t know how to control himself anymore.

“Eds, what do you want?” asked Richie, trying to keep his voice soft and warm, melting from Eddie’s proximity. He reached out one of his hands to caress Eddie’s chin and saw the smaller boy close his eyes, his beautiful long eyelashes fluttering at his touch and Richie thought _his chest would fucking detonate._

“Rich...” Eddie had to power to speak anymore: his mind was running wild with the possibilities of what’s about to unfold. He could feel Richie’s arms softly squeezing his hips, and he was getting nauseatingly hard.

Richie realized then that there is no way that they can back out of this. He clearly saw Eddie responding to his touch, especially since it was the first time that night that he noticed how hard Eddie was and that almost made him faint. He was losing all sense of self-control, and all he could think about was how Eddie smelled like _the sweetest fucking cranberries in the world_ and his eyes were only halfway open, looking at Richie with the hottest desperation that anyone can, the small boy’s chest heaving from lack of breath. And then it hit Richie – he has never felt this way about anyone in his entire life. Never did he get hard from just _thinking_ of someone, only Eddie could do that to him. Never was he this intoxicated with someone’s proximity and smell, and never did his chest feel tight until he realized that he was in love with this ball of cute anger. While he was mauling the reasons he loves Eddie, Eddie was starting to get busy with his hands. Richie felt the small boy’s hands playing with his hair, and he was so flustered with the _AMAZING_ feeling of Eddie in his hair that he immediately froze and just stared at the other boy’s face.

“I fucking love your hair,” whispered Eddie, realizing again that he is thinking out loud. He kept curling Richie’s hair on his fingers, accidentally brushing the tall boy’s face, making Richie’s heart skip a beat. 

“Was that a compliment, Spaghetti-man?” Richie was trying to smirk, but his voice was faltering and all control ebbing away with the soft touch of Eddie in his hair and skin, and he felt nauseous with nervousness.

“I swear, if you tell anyone that I said your hair was hot I will squeeze your balls so hard, I can guarantee you no offspring,” said Eddie, his voice a bit more than a whisper now. He also didn’t realize that he clenched Richie’s hair behind his head and that elicited a _fucking groan_ from Richie’s throat, and Eddie felt like he might explode any second with what hearing that did to his pants since Richie was also now holding onto Eddie’s hips for dear life. Eddie also involuntarily pushed his face even closer to his, and he could smell Richie’s mouth, and it was _the hottest fucking thing in the world._

“Oh, Eds, if I can get your hands on my balls then I’m counting on it,” said Richie in such a deep voice that it made Eddie shiver. He has never heard Richie talk like that. “Also, did you just say my hair is hot?”

“What?” Eddie was desperately trying to remember his previous sentence but was finding it very hard to remember anything before he heard Richie groan.

“You said my hair is hot. Does that mean you also think that I’m hot?” Richie was trying very hard not to sound desperate but the last sip of alcohol was getting to his head, and he had no way to stop what was coming out of his mouth.

Eddie didn’t know what to say because he realized if he started to be honest right now, something inside him would shatter and every single feeling towards Richie will be revealed and pour out harder than the damn Niagara Falls. He knew that if he said one more thing about how attractive his best friend is he would have to quite literally force himself on Richie.

“Because I think you are the hottest person in this goddamn world, Eddie.” Richie’s eyes were so dark and voice so low when he said that that Eddie felt his mouth go dry instantly. _What_ _…_ _wait what?!_

Eddie took those words as the brightest fucking green light and leaned into Richie’s face closer, making their lips brush just enough to get the tall boy’s reaction. The small boy felt Richie shiver, his body now covered in goosebumps from the gentle touch. Eddie was stroking Richie’s face with his lips, afraid of actually pushing into the kiss because he felt so overwhelmed he thought he’d fall apart. Richie’s breathing was so ragged and strained, one of his hands was now moving to Eddie’s ass, last bits of control slowly melting away. Eddie reached Richie’s jaw, and the other boy stopped breathing completely, too overwhelmed with the small boy’s actions to move any muscles. Eddie kissed Richie behind the ear with so much love and lust and affection, breathing in Richie’s _heavenly fucking scent,_ and Richie couldn’t distinguish dreams with reality anymore. All the while Eddie was gently squeezing Richie’s upper arms, not knowing what to do with his hands yet, not knowing whether he could control himself if they went lower. Richie reached out with the hand that was still on Eddie’s hip to stroke his face, feeling an unpleasant tightness in his chest and nauseating punches in his stomach, and it all felt too much and too little at the same time, and he didn’t know if he could ever stop.

“What are we doing, Rich?” asked Eddie, his voice quiet and breathless, staring at Richie’s mouth so intently that he thought he could will it to crash with his.

“Who cares? Doesn’t this feel right?” said Richie, his voice more serious than ever, realizing again that they couldn’t let this moment go, they already went too far. 

“Yeah...” breathed Eddie, understanding that everything he ever wanted was about to happen and he broke into a soft smile that made Richie’s insides turn.

And then it felt like the whole world exploded and they were in the middle of all that in their little cocoon, clashing their lips together at the same time, so fast and hard that they thought their bodies merged. Eddie pushed Richie’s mouth with his tongue to open up more, all the while moaning so much that he thought he might come in his pants just from the feeling of Richie’s tongue on his. Richie pushed Eddie closer to him, their bodies now so close together that they could feel each other’s hammering heartbeats. Richie’s hands were traveling everywhere around Eddie’s back and his _tight fucking ass,_ and he felt so hot he might actually have a fever. Eddie tied his hands in Richie’s hair, pulling it back to have more access to the tall boy’s mouth, pushing his tongue in farther and farther, not really knowing if that even felt good to Richie. The tug on Richie’s hair made him groan and moan even louder now, and the tall boy felt Eddie’s smile on his lips.

“Are you fucking laughing at me, Kaspbrak?” said Richie grinning, pulling back from the small boy’s mouth reluctantly.

“No, just your sounds are making me dizzy,” said Eddie with _the sexiest fucking smile_ , driving Richie utterly insane.

“Fuck, Eddie.” Richie has now entirely lost all control. He picked up the small boy to gently put him on the ground, earning a squeal that made his stomach feel funny. He pressed on top of Eddie, kissing him even harder than before, biting into Eddie’s bottom lip because he felt like _fucking consuming_ the small boy _._ Richie’s body was responding to the hormones playing, making him grind into Eddie hard, their height difference matching their groins perfectly in that position. Eddie moaned so loud that he thought everyone through all three floors could hear him and clenched Richie’s lower arm so hard that he thought he tore a piece off.

“Eds, if you keep that up, I will come into my pants sooner than I can get your zipper open.” Richie had no filter now, understanding full well that Bev was right and they were kissing, and Eddie was _so fucking hard,_ and his perfect face was flushed and glowing, and Richie thought like erupting on the spot.

“Do it again,” said Eddie, his voice serious and pleading at the same time, and that made Richie so hard that he thought they might need to pump the blood out of his cock manually if the small boy keeps talking to him like that. But he silently listened, pushing into Eddie’s crotch even harder now, getting another loud moan that made his skin tingle.

Everything started happening really fast at that point, the long-held desire giving way to the concealed emotions. Richie was grinding into Eddie feverishly, with Eddie’s hands traveling all over Richie’s body. At some point, the small boy couldn’t take the separation of fabric anymore and decided that there’s no need for any clothing. As soon as Richie separated his mouth from Eddie’s, the small boy started lifting Richie’s shirt up forcefully, and as soon as it was thrown off, Richie started to unbutton Eddie’s. Struggling with the buttons because of his shaking sweaty hands, Richie was growing frustrated and kept cursing under his breath. Eddie giggled at the scene, the reality of them being together feeling like a dream.

“Stop giggling, Kaspbrak or I will eat your tongue,” said Richie, finally deciding that there was no way to salvage the shirt and just burst the thing open, buttons flying all around the room. Eddie thought that was the hottest thing that he’s ever seen and stopped smiling.

Richie bent down towards the waistband of Eddie’s pants and started trailing kisses on the small boy’s stomach back to his mouth. Eddie was feeling so many things at once that it was very difficult to control his body or his mouth. Richie realized that Eddie must be someone who is very loud in bed, and he couldn’t believe how much he loved that, especially since noises of the girls he slept with irritated the living crap out of him. But Eddie’s moans and curses were hitting Richie in the groin and the chest and he didn’t even really know how making someone feel good can make you feel on cloud 9. He finally reached his mouth, trying to control his teeth and tongue because Eddie tasted _so fucking good_ that he wasn’t sure he could restrain himself from biting him all over. He started kissing Eddie’s jaw and suck a little on his neck, and Eddie then pushed his waist closer to him, their painfully hard groins touching and making both boys moan out in pleasure. From hearing Richie’s sounds again, Eddie started undoing the tall boy’s belt, roughly unbuttoning his jeans right after. Even though he thought about Richie a lot, he never imagined that to feel like this, like he’s not even on this planet anymore, that there is no one in the world but the two of them. He wanted to make Richie feel good; he wanted to touch him so bad that it stung his chest.

Eddie suddenly felt immensely brave and found his hand reaching straight into Richie’s boxers. Richie moaned out a long _FUUUUCK_ , burying his face into Eddie’s hair, barely able to hold himself up on his elbows anymore. Eddie’s small hands were doing _fucking wonders,_ and he realized that no one has ever touched him with so much desperation, and he looked into Eddie’s eyes and found himself staring into everything that he lived for – he realized that at that moment and any day after that one, all he ever wants to do is look into Eddie’s eyes. His feelings towards Eddie were overwhelming him, and the way Eddie’s eyes shone with the light of the moon, and his puffy lips, and his _rosy adorable fucking cheeks_ , and everything about him was _so fucking perfect_ , and he gently grabbed onto Richie’s balls and _if felt so fucking good_ that Richie stumbled onto his side, unable to support himself anymore. He crashed onto his side, his dick flying from Eddie’s hand and Richie found himself crying out from loss of contact.

“Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry, Rich, I don’t really know what to...” Eddie started rambling until he felt Richie’s lips on his, telling him to calm down.

“Eddie, I have never felt that good in my entire life. I fell because of how good you were doing.” Richie noticed how strained his voice was – Eddie was making him feel things that he never has before, and he couldn’t come up with one joke at the moment.

Eddie was so overwhelmed with the praise that Richie was giving him that all he could do was blush scarlet and reach out to the tall boy’s dick again, continuing to stroke him. Richie moaned out, biting into Eddie’s neck from pleasure and grabbing his waist. Eddie inched closer to him, laying down on Richie’s right bicep so he can be as close to him as possible, and the warmth and scent of Richie were just _too much._ Richie reached out to unbutton Eddie’s _tight fucking khakis_ and reached his hand to stroke Eddie’s dick, causing the small boy to bite his jaw so hard, he was sure he would have a bruise in the morning. Eddie has never been touched by anyone before, he barely ever touched himself. The feeling of Richie’s long fingers around him was better than he ever thought was possible, and he was so embarrassingly close to the finale that he didn’t know if he could hold off for more than 30 seconds. Eddie pulled onto Richie’s hair with his other hand, needing to hold onto something for self-control but the groan that came out of Richie’s mouth almost took him over the edge.

“Rich, I... I can’t.. anymore..” Eddie stumbled on his words, mouthing them straight into Richie’s mouth. Richie was barely holding in himself, the pulling of his hair violently hurting his swelling dick.

“Let go, Eddie,” said Richie, realizing that coming together would be the best fucking thing to ever happen to him.

And Eddie came first, crying out so loud against Richie’s mouth that he was now definitely sure someone heard them. He felt his body shake and tried very hard not to stop stroking Richie who came undone barely 5 seconds after Eddie. They were both shaking, sweaty bodies pressed into each other, desperately trying to kiss their moans into each other’s mouths. The feeling of elation and happiness and relief was overwhelming their senses, and they were holding onto that moment of bliss for as long as they possibly could. Their bodies collapsed against each other, foreheads touching as they calmed their breathing. Richie lifted his head to kiss Eddie’s forehead, earning a small and shy smile from the boy.

“What just happened?” asked Eddie with a small and exhausted voice, euphoria still coursing through his veins.

“I think we just had sex, Eds,” said Richie, trailing kisses on Eddie’s face, not even caring about the sweaty mess that they both are.

“We’re disgusting. Let me go get something to clean up,” Eddie quickly added, seeing Richie’s expression at the word ‘disgusting’. Eddie quickly kissed Richie, a blush creeping up on his cheeks from the mere possibility of doing that. Richie laid back down on his two arms grinning, with his pants already pulled up, looking at the small boy in front of him struggling to put his clothes on. Eddie was scrunching up his nose from the mess on his stomach, deciding that he might as well wipe some of it with his ruined button-down; the memory of it being ripped off sent a shiver down his spine. Richie just noticed the number of hickeys and scratches that he left on Eddie’s body, and he thought he might burst with the pride of leaving those marks on his favorite boy. He quickly wondered if he looked like a disheveled mess himself, knowing full well that Eddie bit him too many times for it not to be visible.

“I have to… um… borrow your shirt…” mumbled Eddie, too shy to speak coherently. Richie smirked at him and threw his t-shirt at the small boy, the other one quietly giggling as he put it on. Richie thought that seeing Eddie in his shirt that was basically a dress on him was the cutest thing in the world, and he felt his chest swell at the sight.

“You better hurry up, Eds. Your mom might show up any minute, and I need cuddles,” said Richie, smiling sweetly at Eddie, his eyes already droopy with sleepiness. Eddie rolled his eyes and smiled back as he descended down the attic stairs, the music downstairs still blaring but not that many people participating in the party anymore.

As he made his way to the bathroom down the hall, he noticed that most people were passed out in the hallways and bedrooms, and the bathroom was mostly occupied. Nobody paid attention to the disheveled Eddie who had so many dizzying thoughts in his mind that he didn’t really care what anyone thought. As he reached the bathroom, he realized that the were no clean towels around – everything used up by the puking teenagers. He tried to look for toilet paper but saw one barely dressed guy clutching onto the roll while lying in the bathtub. Eddie was just making his way to the parents’ bedroom to find their separate bathroom when he saw Beverly run in his direction. She spun Eddie around to take a good look at him.

“Oh my God. It seems like he found you,” said Bev, giggling like a child, making Eddie blush crimson.

“Do I really look that obvious?” asked Eddie, knowing full well that he probably looked like he just came out of an orgy.

“Well, let’s see: your hair is sticky, and all over the place, your lips are bigger than Lauren Bukowski’s, you are wearing his shirt that exposes at least a dozen hickeys. Do those seem like telltale signs to you?” said Bev, all the while grinning and looking at Eddie up and down. She was so happy with the result of her confrontation with Richie that she couldn’t stop smiling. But she also noticed that Eddie barely stood on his feet and was getting more pale in the face with every second.

“Bev, I… I don’t feel good…” said Eddie, feeling Bev lift one of his arms around her neck to lead him to the parents’ bathroom. Thankfully, there weren’t any people there and many clean towels, so she put Eddie next to the toilet where he purged the lack of food in his system and the amount of cheap vodka that he drank. Beverly wet a small towel and wiped his forehead and mouth, not sure if Eddie got everything out of his system.

“Eddie, you need to lay down. Here, let me put you on Bill’s parents’ bed, and I’ll bring you some water,” said Bev, lifting the small boy up and leading him to the king-sized bed that was thankfully unoccupied, probably because Bill spent most of the night kicking people out of the room.

“But… Richie…” mumbled Eddie, too exhausted and tired at that point that he couldn’t make coherent sentences.

“Hey, don’t worry about your boyfriend. He’ll find you in the morning,” said Beverly, kissing Eddie’s forehead and leaving to get water. Eddie drifted off with a grin on his face from hearing the word ‘boyfriend’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUUUUUT amirite / even though it's not technically in the 'present', I still love this chapter even though they're so oblivious to each other's feelings wtf (but that's how real life is, sadly); wow that was depressing, anyway, enjoy and leave comments <3


	7. August, 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie finally goes out in his attempt to drink the memories of Richie away, but his night ends in an unexpected way.
> 
> *MENTIONS OF RAPE/NON-CON*  
> *GRAPHIC VIOLENCE*

_WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK._ Eddie was pacing across his room, a million thoughts entering his mind. He couldn’t believe that Bev wouldn’t tell him that Richie was coming over. _How could she even invite him? It_ _’_ _s not just her apartment!_ He felt betrayed even though he knew that they were friends, and he had no right to restrict her from bringing him. On the other hand, she knew exactly how much Eddie _HATED_ surprises of any kind, and this was definitely _NOT_ a pleasant one. _Right?_ Eddie finally sat down on the edge of his bed, dropping his head into his hands. It was hard to process what was going on, but he took a couple of deep breaths, attempting to calm down.

He thought back to how he looked when he saw Richie. He was basically naked in front of the man who he loved since he even knew what love was. A man who never answered his feelings. Eddie only walked around like that in front of Bev because they were both clearly as uninterested in each other physically as a mockingbird would’ve been attracted to a hyena. _Me being the hyena, of course._ Eddie tried to recover from the shock by thinking about what he’s going to wear. He stood up to look through his closet, pulling out a pair of dark jeans, a baby blue t-shirt, and a beige leather jacket that he & Bev once found at a flea market downtown, the memory of Bev complimenting him made him smile. He took off the towel and dried his hair with it as much as he could, trying to ignore the fact that his crotch touched the places he was wiping his hair with, and pulled on first underwear and socks, and then the rest of the clothing. Satisfied with the choice of his outfit he put on his white Converse and breathed out in front of the mirror before stepping out into the hallway. He quickly swerved to the side because he forgot the deodorant, not being a fan of cologne because it made his skin itchy and made the whole apartment smell like a 40-year-old bachelor. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, fixing his overly curly hair to appear even remotely attractive, giving up when it just kept bouncing back to its original form. Eddie sighed again and stepped out into the hallway for the second time, his heart thumping in his chest. 

He walked into their living room/kitchen/entrance area and found himself relax and warm up at the sight of Richie and Bev sitting on the window and smoking a cigarette, two mugs full of red wine resting on the pane along with the ashtray. Something about that image was making his heart throb, and he almost decided against going to the bar. But then he saw Richie turn around to look at him with so much expectation in his sad, dark eyes, and all of his fears came straight back to him, and the desire to get drunk _away from Richie_ came rushing back. Eddie decided to at least be polite and come up to greet his old love.

“Hi,” said Eddie, his voice small and warm.

“Hi.” Richie loved the way Eddie looked, and all he could think was how much he wanted to at least hug him. _Is that too much to ask?_

“Hey, um… Bev, I’m going out, so… um… don’t wait up,” said Eddie, giving a warm smile to Richie, unable to resist the image of the tall man sitting by the window – an image that his mind replayed a lot since his teenage years.

“What do you mean you’re going out?” Bev looked genuinely surprised and a little hurt. Eddie shot her a look full of daggers and Richie looked at their exchange with bewilderment. _I thought she knew he was going out?_

“You two have fun,” said Eddie, turning on his heel and strolling out of the apartment, softly closing the front door. Richie watched him leave and felt the forgotten stinging sensation in his chest, replaying Eddie’s bouncing chocolate curls in his mind.

“I thought you said you knew he was going out?” asked Richie, trying really hard to understand what Bev’s deal was.

“Um… Yeah, I did. I-I thought he changed his mind,” said Bev looking straight in front of her, lighting another cigarette to avoid interaction with Richie. He waited a couple of seconds to see if he should question her but decided against it. 

“Well, it’s too bad either way,” said Richie with sadness in his voice, replaying an image of Eddie’s naked torso in the back of his head like a movie. _Fuck._

The thing is, Eddie hated bars. Not really because of dirt and smells because it mostly didn’t bother him that much anymore, but it was the people who came there – almost all of them looking for some sort of ludicrous distraction. The bar he entered wasn’t fancy, but it wasn’t dingy either: it was something between the bar you would go to after work and a bar you would actually want to visit every day; not the first choice but certainly will do. It wasn’t too far from his apartment either, just five blocks east in a very well populated area where he felt comfortable enough in case something goes wrong. He was also very friendly with a bartender there, who worked there since Eddie first moved to New York, and even took care of him in his Sophomore year when Eddie came to forget Richie time and time again. Repressing the stale smell of cigarettes and sweat, the small man made his way straight to the bar, sitting down at his usual spot on the side with his back to the front door, thankful that a lot of people chose to go elsewhere tonight, and he didn’t have to fight anyone for his favorite seat. The bartender, Gary, noticed Eddie instantly and waved at him with a warm smile, calmness spreading over the small man from the image of a familiar grey-haired man. He sat there for a little, contemplating the cocktail he was going to have, knowing full well that he STILL can’t drink anything that doesn’t have syrup or juice in it (red wine being the exception).

“Hey, Eddie, my boy! So glad to see you, I haven’t seen you here in months!” said Gary, shaking Eddie’s hand and making the small man blush – he had a very fatherly fondness towards this man who took care of him more times than he’d willingly admit.

“I know… That should be a good thing, right?” said Eddie grinning, making the bartender laugh.

“Yes, it certainly is. Now, what can I get you, my man? My shift ends in about thirty minutes, so you better down two cocktails by then, eh? Assuming you’ve eaten, of course.” said Gary with playful fondness – he loved how fun Eddie was when he was tipsy, remembering all the times he attacked the jukebox and danced with random bikers who gladly enjoyed the attention of a cute boy like him.

“I have, Gary, thank you. I’ll start with ‘Midnight Manhattan’, please,” ordered Eddie with a smile on his face, thinking that starting with his favorite cranberry gin cocktail will certainly boost his mood.

Eddie sat at the bar for a long time, already sipping on his second ‘Midnight Manhattan’, a little concerned at how fast he was getting drunk but not enough to stop at two. Gary left ten minutes ago because he had a planned anniversary with his wife, and he came out of the bar to hug Eddie, giving him a fair warning to not drink more than three cocktails, reminding him that sweet taste only shields the hard liquor. Eddie hugged him with drunk friendly affection and waved off the comment, thinking that tonight he doesn’t care about the limit – he just wants to have fun and forget. Little did he know that after a third cocktail he will hardly be able to stand, stumbling into the bathroom to take a piss. As he was purging he was trying to think of why he was getting drunk this fast: he was generally a lightweight, but not that much and these cocktails weren’t new to him. He then quickly realized – he hasn’t had a drink for months because of his dancing auditions, and he wasn’t really allowed to drink while in the production on Broadway. He felt a small pang of guilt at being irresponsible and risking his performance, but it was quickly replaced by a once again smoldering desire to forget Richie’s beautiful form sitting on his window. He closed his zipper with more fervor than he intended and stumbled to the sink to wash his hands, a strong desire to drink more suddenly possessing his mind.

“Hey, are you from around here, man?” asked a tall blond man standing to the left of Eddie, eyeing him from his place at the sink.

“What’s it to you?” mumbled Eddie, his speech more slurred than he intended it to be.

“Damn, feisty much? You just don’t look like someone who’d go to bars, especially alone,” said the man, his eyes never leaving Eddie.

“Who said I was alone?” Something about their conversation didn’t sit well with Eddie, and he didn’t like the man next to him getting into his personal space.

“I’m sure that your friends wouldn’t let you get this drunk if you weren’t.” said the man, now wiping his hands with a paper towel, eyes traveling up and down Eddie’s body. Eddie felt a wave of nausea that had nothing to do with alcohol and stumbled out of the bathroom without wiping his hands, clumsily rubbing them on his jeans instead.

Eddie sat back down at the bar and ordered a fourth cocktail, his hazy mind taking over the realization that he might not leave the bar awake if he finishes the last drink. He instantly put the cash for it on the top, thinking that he might forget to pay for it later and he didn’t want to get into fights. Eddie already felt that the whole bar was softly swirling around him, the people on the stools barely coming into focus. _But that_ _’_ _s what I came here for, right?_ He finally received his fourth cocktail and took a couple of large sips, the familiar sweet taste of bitter cranberries hitting his tongue.

“You know, I think I might’ve seen you here before. There was a very cute ginger girl with you a couple of months ago, ain’t that right?” said the blond man who was now leaning on the bar standing next to Eddie.

“What the fuck do you want? She wouldn’t be interested in you anyway,” said Eddie with more spite than he intended – he hated when creepy men hit on Beverly because they reminded him of her dad, even though this one couldn’t be older than 30 years old.

“Well, would you be interested, hottie?” asked the man with a disgusting dirty smirk that made Eddie’s insides turn.

“No. Sorry,” said Eddie, feeling a small ball of panic set in his chest.

“Hey, you don’t look okay. Do you want me to take you to my place? I could help you feel better.” Eddie felt something shatter inside him – this is one of those people who took advantage of drunk college kids who couldn’t hold their liquor. He instantly stopped drinking the cocktail, desperately forcing his mind to sober up but it was too late – he drank too much.

“Excuse me,” said Eddie, pushing the man to the side and trying very hard to walk fast to the exit.

He stepped into the chilly night of New York, stumbling towards the pay phone in front of the bar. Eddie stepped in and pulled the coins out of the pocket of his jacket into his soft hand, some of them spilling on the ground when Eddie toppled into the side of the booth, barely standing on his feet. He dialed his apartment house number, praying internally that Bev wasn’t sitting on the fire escape and heard the ring. The first one went unanswered, and he felt tears stinging his eyes from fear and the horrible spinning in his head, and all the wanted is to be home right now and to see a familiar friendly face. He dialed the second time, miraculously not missing the slots for his fingers, and waited patiently until finally, Bev picked up the phone.

“Hello, Edward Kaspbrak’s manager speaking, how can I help you?” said Beverly with a noticeable smile in her voice, probably thoroughly enjoying herself with Richie, whose giggle he could hear in the background.

“Bev, I… I need you h-help. There’s this guy, blond guy; he won’t leave me alone. Please, Bev,” said Eddie with slurred words, trying very hard not to swallow his words with sobbing, feeling an immense relief at finally speaking to Bev.

“Eddie? Eddie, where are you? What’s going on?” Bev’s voice was noticeably more serious now, and he could hear Richie screaming at Bev in the background to find out what’s happening.

“Our bar, Bev… I’m very drunk, and I c-can’t stand, and he’s so creepy, please get me o-out of here,” said Eddie, full-on crying in the phone, afraid of passing out on the sidewalk before Bev gets there.

“Our bar? Eddie, what bar? We only went drinking once. Tell me the name of the place,” asked Bev, her voice full of concern.

“Bev, hurry, I…” Eddie suddenly felt an immense desire to throw up, and he left the phone hanging on the wire with Bev’s screams in it, while he stumbled out of the booth to throw up on the road, almost getting hit by a taxi that swerved out of the way on time.

Eddie felt somebody’s rough hands pulling him back to the sidewalk, trying to make him stand up straight. Eddie was so sick and wobbly that he couldn’t even open his eyes, couldn’t register what was really happening. He felt someone shake him violently which was only making him more sick and more alcohol to rush into his head. He was very close to passing out, and his head felt way too heavy, and when he opened his eyes a little bit, he saw the blond man standing in front of him, looking at him with aggression and nothing but pure evil in his eyes.

“I told you I should take you home, kid. You need someone’s help,” said the man, his voice tinged with malice and animal hunger.

“I-I haven’t paid. I-I need to go inside,” mumbled Eddie, barely getting the words out of his mouth, knowing full-well that it was a lie and a man probably saw him put cash on the bar top.

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart. I took care of everything,” said the man, smiling in the evilest way Eddie ever witnessed. _A Joker looks prettier than this guy._

“Please, let go. I-I need some water.” Eddie was now shaking with fear and probably alcohol poisoning, and he felt tears rolling down his cheeks, but his body was jelly, supported upright only because of the strong arms of a stranger holding him up.

“I have plenty of fluids in my place. Now, let’s get going,” said the man and Eddie tried to protest but his body was responding with delayed actions, and the man had his arms pinned behind him, somehow holding Eddie up and leading him away from the bar to the dark streets of New York City, with Eddie blacking out almost every thirty seconds.

 

 

“Beverly, I swear to God, if you don’t start thinking harder I will literally blow this fucking place up!” screamed Richie, his heart hammering against his chest, the fear of small Eddie intoxicated in a bar terrifying him to his very core.

“I’m trying, you dickhead! We went out ONCE, and it was fucking months ago! He didn’t say the name!” Bev already had tears in her eyes, and she was trying very hard to think about the place they were in, but she didn’t seem to remember even how it looked like.

“Beverly, if he gets raped because you can’t remember the ONE bar you both went to, I will murder every blond man in the vicinity of New York City, you hear me?!” Richie was now entirely livid, but Bev could see so much fear in his eyes that she only felt more guilty now, unable to come up with a screaming retort.

“Fuck! Jesus, let me think! I’m really trying here!” screamed Beverly, clutching her head and attempting to ignore the lightheaded sensation that a bottle of wine brought.

“Whatever, I’m going out to look for him in every fucking bar in a thirty-mile radius from here,” said Richie, grabbing his coat and starting to head out the door.

“Wait, wait! I’m coming with you,” said Bev, grabbing the keys to the apartment and running out the door with Richie.

Bev was intuitively leading the way to one of the most popular bars in their area, knowing full well that Eddie wouldn’t go to a pub and that was the only one that wasn’t considered ‘fancy’. It wasn’t too hard to locate it since there weren’t too many bars around their apartment – most of the space was occupied by cafés and college campus buildings. Bev wasn’t sure if that was the place until she walked in, noticing the familiar dark mahogany bar and a jukebox that Eddie abused a lot the night they went out. She quickly walked towards the bar, Richie on her feet, his head surveying everything around them.

“Hey, have you seen a young man with a light jacket, pretty short, very cute?” asked Bev, knowing that saying ‘cute’ somehow always associates with Eddie.

“Um, yeah, he was here twenty minutes ago but then went outside to call or something,” said the bartender while pouring three beers at once, clearly disinterested in Bev’s concerned voice.

“Did he come back in?” Beverly was already afraid of the answer.

“He’s pretty noticeable, so I’d have to say no, not that I was looking at him, you know,” said the bartender with a weird smirk. _Is every single person in this bar a pervert?_

Bev grabbed Richie by the arm, giving the bartender a murderous look, and pushed through the group of people dancing in the middle of the bar to get outside. She came up to the phone booth and noticed that the phone was still hanging and there was vomit right next to it on the road. She felt her whole body shiver, terrified of how Eddie must have been feeling right now. _How could I let him go alone?_

“You think it was him?” asked Richie, pointing at the vomit.

“I’m not sure, but everything points to it. He sounded very drunk on the phone, I wouldn’t be surprised if he purged,” said Bev, whipping her head around in an attempt to notice Eddie anywhere around the area.

“I think we should walk around the area and look for him. We can’t waste any time while he’s with that fucking creep,” said Richie with noticeable venom in his voice. 

“Alright, let’s split up. I’ll round a couple of blocks there, and you go in that direction and do the same. We’ll meet back here, okay?” said Bev, pointing at two different directions form the entrance of the bar, looking at Richie with terrified and pleading eyes.

“Be careful, Marsh,” said Richie kissing the top of her head and walking fast in the opposite direction.

Beverly was already at least five blocks away from the bar in the opposite direction of their apartment, and even though New York City was very much awake until late hours, most of the streets were deserted. She was walking around aimlessly, desperately trying to listen to anything that could point to Eddie’s presence. For the first time since she moved to New York, she wished for the city to be quiet and for the nauseating piss smell of its streets to subside. She decided to round the corner and start on making her way back to the bar through some back streets. The streets were noticeably darker now since large lights were mostly located on the avenues. She started walking a little faster, afraid that she’s walking too slow to actually catch up with Eddie. She wasn’t scared of anything anymore after her dad – the memory of that man’s hands on her sent a shaking shiver through her entire body.

She turned left again, now walking straight back into the direction of the bar on an avenue parallel to the one where the location is. Bev started silently crying from desperation – she didn’t know what else to do and knew that the police wouldn’t participate until it’s been 24 hours, not that she trusted them to do a damn thing anyway. She was already feeling weak and useless, her knees buckling from fear of something happening to Eddie when she heard someone vomiting in the distance, and her body instantly froze, listening to what was going on. The vomiting continued, and she started walking towards the sound which was on the opposite side of an empty avenue, and she ran across the road to get to a relatively dark alleyway by a closed laundromat. She rounded the corner of the entrance into the ghastly passage and saw two figures in the dark – a small form crouching on the ground, retching what seems like gallons of fluids, and a much taller form standing next to the first one. She was slowly getting closer, trying to use the element of surprise on the tall man since she couldn’t see whether it’s Eddie yet because their backs were to her. She could now see the tall man shaking the smaller form under him and saying something disgusting and malicious judging by his tone of voice. Beverly was now close enough to see the bottoms of Eddie’s Converse, and she instantly straightened out, feeling her mind sobering up with record speed.

“Hey!” she screamed, getting the attention from the tall man who spun around faster than his height should allow him. He turned around, and Bev could now see the outline of his face and a dangling undone belt, and she felt a massive wave of nausea hit her. 

“Mind your fucking business, whoever you are!” screamed the man, stepping a little closer to Bev’s direction, and she noticed the smaller form fall sideways onto the ground. _Please, please, please be okay._

“Get the fuck away from my friend, you disgusting cunt!” screamed Bev, stepping close enough to smell the vomit and the disgusting cologne of the tall man.

“Oooh, I know you. The small fucker and you were at the bar a couple of months ago. I would rather have _you_ in this alleyway, but you never showed up at the bar alone. But look how things worked out now, I can have you both in one night.” The man had a disgusting mischievous smile on his face now that was easily distinguishable by how close Bev was standing to him, her face illuminated by the moonlight that shone through the fire escapes above.

“If you think for a second that I would let a disgusting fuck like you to put your hands on me, you are deeply mistaken.” Beverly was now fuming with anger, and she could care less that he was twice her height and weight – all she cared about was Eddie’s helpless form on the ground and getting past the pile of garbage standing in front of her.

“Your chivalry is very admirable, ginger, but I’m afraid your tiny limbs can’t protect you from the hands of a real…” the man didn’t finish speaking as he felt a sharp pain hit his jaw.

Beverly merely winced at the throbbing in her fist, already ready for round two when she felt a stinging burn on her cheek that sent her falling to the ground. She realized that she drastically underestimated his strength but her resolve to save Eddie was giving her more than enough adrenaline. She crawled back fast when she saw the man trying to swing his leg at her, and she caught onto a couple of crates standing on the side to boost herself up. She grabbed onto a long piece of wood and put all of her strength into smacking it hard across his face. The man stumbled back into a huge green dumpster, hitting the other side of his face on it. He got up quickly catching the board that Bev tried to hit him with for the second time, and threw it into Eddie’s direction, almost hitting his unconscious body. Bev didn’t have enough time to react when she felt a horrible pain in her stomach that made her fall back onto the ground, hitting the back of her head on the dirty asphalt. She lost the ability to hear for a couple of seconds, clutching her head and doubling sideways from the searing pain in her torso. She slowly realized that he hit her in the stomach with his boots that were extremely heavy, and she felt the coppery taste enter her mouth. Bev was desperately trying to make herself see again after the white stars that enveloped her vision from the pain in her head, but she felt the rough hands push her shoulders into the ground, unable to keep her cradled position. She felt a horrible pain in her stomach harder now, making her cry out and it hurt bad enough for her vision to clear out. She saw the dark eyes looming on top of her, enveloped by a shining halo of his blond hair and the image was making her ridiculously sick, reminding her of the way her own father used to pin her helplessly to the ground when she struggled at first. Bev felt a pool of tears leaving her eyes, not realizing until then that she was crying, and she wasn’t sure if it was the pain in her torso, the searing throbbing of her head, or the general helplessness of the situation, but she slowly felt most of her physical strength leave her, and the dread of what is happening started to set in.

“I told you, I will have you both here. Now. And there is nothing you can do about it, little girl,” the last words made Bev’s entire body shiver, the memories of her father flooding through her entire being, flaming the anger and hatred that she thought she got over years ago. 

Beverly managed to pull all of her strength to bump her head extremely hard on the man’s who fell back crying out in pain. What Bev didn’t consider is how her own already damaged head will feel after that, and she felt everything go dark for a couple of seconds, a dull sound of man’s whining echoing in her barely conscious mind. She couldn’t feel her body anymore and couldn’t even move her arms, her body completely numb from the harsh pain in her head. Bev now felt more blood rush into her mouth, and she was getting terrified of choking on her own fluid before she’d even get to defend herself. She felt the man’s knee on the inside of one of her thighs, and he was pushing extremely hard, making sure that she can’t even turn over. His hands were holding her arms above her head now and she couldn’t even open her eyes, couldn’t do anything to help herself or Eddie anymore. And then everything changed. She felt the heavy weight of the man leave her and heard his screams as if underwater, she still couldn’t open her eyes and barely heard anything due to the pain in her head but all she could do was hope that someone was there to help, all the while wondering if Richie was still standing by the bar waiting for her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a cliffhanger BUT I'M NOT SORRY IT'S MEANT TO BE THIS WAY; don't hate me ;(  
> Beverly is a tiny badass and I love her character so much, hope you enjoyed! Please leave comments, loves!


	8. January 1st, 1995

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie wake up in 1995, clueless about the previous night.

Richie woke up with a dull pain in his head, all too familiar with the feeling of a hangover. He felt very cold and realized that that’s what woke him up. The sun was already up but not too high, so he guessed it was still early. He sat up a little to take a view of his surroundings and found himself in Bill’s attic, not really understanding how he got there. He was laying in a pile of old blankets and the whole area looked like a mess. He noticed an almost empty bottle of vodka and cranberry juice in the corner, understanding now where a headache came from. _But I don’t ever mix anything with vodka, that’s for sissies_. He clutched his head trying to find the last thing he remembered from last night. Nauseous feeling overcame him when he remembered making out with some female drool monster, and he instantly realized that he wasn’t wearing a shirt and his jeans weren’t closed. _Oh no... Oh no, no, no, no. I couldn’t have slept with her. Ew ew ew ew._

Richie stood up trying to survey the surroundings. He instantly realized that if he slept with her, she would’ve been snoring next to him right now. Plus, there weren’t any used condoms around or really any signs of people having sex, besides the mess of the blankets which he could easily make himself. He quickly closed his jeans and decided to go downstairs for some water and food, figuring that at least that should help with the pounding in his ears. He didn’t notice Eddie’s button-down in the corner of the room.

 

 

Eddie woke up with a groan, feeling like his head weighed 3 tons and like there was way too much light in the room, even though the curtains were drawn. He sat up, realizing that he was in Bill’s parents’ room and his eyes widened at the realization of occupying that bedroom when even Bill didn’t get to sleep there. Even though he felt comfortable, he forced himself to sit up, taking in the view of his surroundings. There was nobody else in the room, but there was a glass of water on a nightstand, along with some Advil. _Who left these here?_ He couldn’t bring himself to do too much thinking, so he just reached out and took the pain relief. He felt a little better after drinking some water but nausea still stayed, and he was very careful at trying to get up from the bed.

Throwing the blankets from his legs, Eddie slowly stood up from the bed but apparently not careful enough because he stumbled and fell back on his side. _Okay, take two_. He now stood up twice as slow, taking the time to adjust to the swirling surroundings. _How am I still fucking drunk?_ Battling his sickness, Eddie stumbled into the adjacent bathroom to throw some cold water on his face. He felt for the towel that hung by the sink and wiped his face, throwing it on the floor, not even sparing a look in the mirror.

The small boy opened the door to the hallway, and a new wave of nausea came over him, this one much stronger than last time. He covered his mouth with his hand, barely holding the wave of puke in. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that he hasn’t eaten anything since he arrived at the party, and the last thing he remembered was talking to Richie while he was making himself a drink. _How many fucking drinks did I make?_ Eddie walked past a bathroom in the hall that used to be Georgie’s, not surprised one bit to see one girl sleeping on the toilet and the other awkwardly snoozing in the bathtub. The smell that erupted from there was so bad that Eddie took the time to close the door quietly, not caring one bit for when those two girls are going to be discovered. He walked by Bill’s room and noticed a sock on it, and the image made him chuckle. He continued to walk towards the main staircase, scrunching his eyebrows at the blanket that was sprawled on the bottom of the attic stairs. _What kind of stupid shitheads would have sex in the freezing attic?_

Eddie continued to walk down the main staircase, slowly taking notice of how quiet the entire house was. It seemed like everyone was asleep but the mess that surrounded him suggested that the party went on until very late. _I probably passed out before it even struck midnight. Fuck. New Year my ass._ He reached the first floor and entered the living room since that was the only way to get to the kitchen, noticing Mike sprawled on the couch with some blond freshman girl. Eddie smiled at the image, continuing his way into the kitchen and trying to ignore the stale smell of cigarettes, alcohol, and puke that seemed to have attached themselves to the house permanently. He entered the kitchen and breathed out in relief to find that only one tray of his food remained on the counter, guessing that someone put the rest in the fridge. He smirked at the trays that he saw on one of the cold shelves, taking out the one that looked like mac n’ cheese. He grabbed a fork from a drawer and dove into the food like a hungry maniac, caring very little about the stale cold taste of cheese and glued pasta. He leaned on the counter with alcohol (which was now coincidentally almost empty) and started eating. It took him a couple of moments to register a frame of a skinny curly boy sitting on Bill’s back porch smoking a cigarette. His fork stopped midway at the image which both terrified him and excited nausea in his stomach almost to a brink.

 

 

Richie was sitting on the back porch shirtless puffing on the smoke of a cigarette that was almost done, staring off at Bill’s backyard that looked like a winter wonderland. He had visible goosebumps but somehow after eating a full tray of mustard chicken he didn’t feel the cold that much, plus his favorite warm tobacco sticks were keeping him company. He was looking ahead now in his glasses that he always kept in one of the drawers in Bill’s living room since he could never change his contacts on time and ended up with burning eyes and nothing to see with. He found his glasses much more comfortable but Eddie once drunkenly said that his eyes look like chocolate candy on the night when he didn’t wear any, so he just tried to wear contacts more often. Needless to say, it wasn’t working out that well. He finished his second cigarette and instantly lit up the third one, reveling in the thoughts of the dream he had at night.

It all came to him slowly while he was eating and he’s been thinking about it ever since. That must have been the best dream Richie has ever had – he was kissing Eddie and the sounds coming out of the small boy when he touched him... _Fuck. I wish I dreamt of him more often_. He was reveling in his ‘dream’ world when he heard the back door slide, assuming that it was someone drunk stumbling out of the living room to throw up. Eddie was slowly making his way to the tall boy, scared of walking too fast as to not barf all over the place. Eddie sat down next to Richie quietly, putting a tray of mac n’ cheese to his left side and reaching for the blanket he found on the floor in the living room. Richie was so consumed in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize someone sat down next to him, and only reacted when he felt Eddie’s fingers brush his shoulders as he put a blanket over the two of them. Richie shivered and turned his head to see Eddie’s unusually pale but _really fucking cute_ face looking up at him with concerned and furrowed brows, trying to cover his half-naked frame. Richie started grinning so wide he thought his face might split.

“You know this is exactly how people get hypothermia. And you confusing your body with the disgusting warmth that’s coming into your lungs is not helping the case at all.” Eddie blurted out, realizing how slurred his speech actually sounds because apparently, he’s still fucking drunk.

“Oh, Eds, you always know how to make a man feel warm and fuzzy. Do you want to put your hands on my crotch? Or we can spoon naked and share body heat.” Richie was only half joking.

“Shut the fuck up, being an 18 year old doesn’t make you a man.” Said Eddie with zero anger in his voice, throwing a punch at Richie’s arm with his fork.

“Damn, Spaghetti, I knew you were kinky, but I didn’t know you enjoyed cannibalism,” said Richie, grinning at Eddie’s attempts at shoving the entire tray of mac n’ cheese in his mouth.

“What the fuck even happened last night? I don’t remember anything after I made myself the first drink,” asked Eddie between chewing unnatural amounts of food.

“Fuck if I know. I was making out with some chick, and then everything is blank,” said Richie, instantly regretting telling Eddie about the girl.

“Looks like you two had fun,” said Eddie chuckling, pointing his fork at numerous hickeys all over Richie’s neck and chest. Richie looked down at himself entirely horrified.

“What the fuck?! I didn’t sleep with her!” the tall boy realized that he sounded really defensive. _You’re not dating him, why are you so scared of his opinion?_

“Yeah, maybe your abnormally large mouth did it by itself, I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Eddie sarcastically, somehow managing to smile sexy with a full mouth of food, and Richie felt the bottom of his stomach stir when Eddie involuntarily batted his eyelashes.

“No, God, I would never. Not with her. I can still remember the amount of drool in her mouth,” said Richie, visibly shuddering.

“Well, you should probably find her and ask what happened. Unless you want a child out of wedlock,” said Eddie with a surprisingly good British accent, earning bulging eyes from Richie.

“Eds, are you drunk at seven in the morning?” asked Richie incredulously, still thoroughly impressed and aroused at how hot Eddie’s accent sounded.

“I didn’t drink now if that’s what you mean, dumbass. I think I drank so much last night that it’s still in my system,” said Eddie feeling a wave of nausea hit him again and he almost felt all the food come out when he burped. He instantly closed his mouth in embarrassment – Eddie never did anything like that in front of people.

“Oh my God. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you burp, Spaghetti. You’re basically a man now!” said Richie giggling, grabbing Eddie’s knee and shaking it in mock pride, making the small boy feel lightheaded at the touch.

“Shut the fuck up!” screamed Eddie reddening, smacking Richie’s hand off his knee.

“Aw, don’t be embarrassed, Eds. I still love you even if you’re as gross as me,” said Richie with a mocking and mischievous smile, a look in his eyes saying that he was planning to do something stupid.

“Don’t fucking call me that, and don’t you dare do what you’re about to do!” screamed Eddie but to no avail, because the next thing he knew he was laying on the steps with tears of laughter from Richie’s tickling, the soft snorts making Richie’s chest feel funny.

Richie finally let Eddie go after a full minute of non-stop tickling, reveling in the shine in the small boy’s eyes and the sounds of his laughter permanently engraved in his head. He pulled away to light another cigarette when he noticed something that made his heart jump a little.

“Is that my shirt?” asked Richie, tugging at the end of his band t-shirt.

“What?” Eddie looked down at his body, and there it was – his best friend’s shirt on him. This wasn’t that surprising since Eddie frequently borrowed Richie’s clothes on sleepovers but _how the hell did end up on me yesterday?_

“I woke up shirtless and with open pants, and I thought I slept with that drool monster, but it seems like I know where it went now,” said Richie, completely clueless to what he was implying. Eddie felt like his tongue got stuck in his throat.

“You probably puked all over your shirt and had to borrow mine, Spaghetti! Which means, I probably took care of you most of the night,” said Richie with warm pride in his voice, clearly thinking that it was the only logical explanation.

“Yeah, most likely,” mumbled Eddie with a tinge of disappointment in his voice – he always secretly hoped that his drunk self would initiate something with Richie since his sober self never had the guts to.

Richie shrugged and lit another cigarette, pushing the blanket back upon his shoulders. Eddie took the mac n’ cheese back and started on finishing the tray, looking ahead of him at the bright white backyard. He had these weirdly vivid flashbacks of Richie’s hands on his ass that he couldn’t shake, figuring that he probably dreamt of him again. _Wouldn’t be the first time._ Eddie was chewing on the food with too much concentration in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice Richie’s odd expression staring at him.

“Looks like you had fun too, Spaghetti,” said Richie, gently cupping Eddie’s jaw to expose a dozen hickeys trailing from behind his ear to the exposed part of his shoulder. The gesture made Eddie’s heart throb, but he couldn’t understand why Richie’s face was tinged with disappointment.

“What? I…” he didn’t get to finish his sentence because Richie tugged on the shoulder of the shirt, revealing barely visible bite marks and more hickeys. Eddie looked at parts of himself horrified. _Oh God, did someone take advantage of me? Oh God, someone took advantage of me!_

“Who’s the lucky girl? Do you think we shared her? Wouldn’t that be hot.” said Richie, smirking but also really terrified of Eddie’s answer.

“What the fuck, Richie? I would never… I don’t even…”

“Like girls?” finished Richie, knowing full-well that Eddie isn’t straight, which is why his hopes at having him were magnified that much more when he found out that Eddie had a crush on Judd Nelson.

Eddie’s face must have been beet red. He has never been more embarrassed in his entire life, and he didn’t even know why – Richie was his best friend. But also his crush. No. More like the love of his life. He didn’t actually ever like anyone else, didn’t even look at other guys besides some random actors they saw in the movie theater. But something about Richie knowing his secret really struck a nerve with him and made him hyperventilate beyond belief. The small boy didn’t even have asthma, but he did have panic attacks, and this one hit him like the biggest fucking truck you’ve ever seen, and he could already feel tears stinging his eyes when Richie grabbed both sides of his face, the gesture so familiar but also intimate and it flustered Eddie even more. _Fuck, this dipshit is gonna make it worse._

 _“_ Eddie, Eds, it’s okay. Just breathe. Everything is okay.” Richie was holding his face gently, his eyes expressing the softest and most loving concern a person could muster.

Eddie slowly started to calm down, Richie’s soft and familiar voice bringing him back to the present. _I will never stop loving him._ The realization dawned on Eddie faster than the speed of light - Richie was his rock, the only reason he could even think straight in this town. _Unless I had to think straight around him, which was generally impossible._ The small boy never felt safer or calmer than in his best friend’s arms. Whatever he felt for Richie, no matter how strong and overpowering it was, their connection as friends was more important to him than anything. It was then that Eddie decided that he will never make the first move, but he will try to flirt with Richie until the day he dies, _dammit._

“Hey, I’m… I’m okay,” said Eddie weakly, his breathless voice waking Richie up from his concerned trance. Eddie slowly lifted his hands to Richie’s, gently unclasping them from his face because he didn’t want to overthink that touching more than friendly concern.

“You know, it’s okay. To not like girls, I mean. None of us would care,” said Richie, folding his hands in his lap, a bit disappointed that Eddie didn’t let him hold his cute face a little longer.

“Okay,” said Eddie quietly, eyeing Richie from the corner of the eye, a painful stinging in his chest reminding him that no matter what happens, he will never feel love as strong as he had for his best friend. He was going to say something poetic when he heard the back door open, and both boys spun around to see Bev’s sleepy face smiling at them.

“Hey, you lovers. Had a good celebration last night?” asked Bev, leaning on the rail of the back porch closer to Richie. _‘Cause you know, cigarettes._ Richie knowingly reached out his arm with a pack with a lighter filling the empty space where most of the sticks should’ve been.

“I don’t even know if I was awake for fucking midnight, Bevvy. How was yours, anyway? Isn’t that Haystack’s sweater?” asked Richie with a smirk, knowing Bev well enough to consider the possibility of her hooking up with Ben.

“Yeah, whatever. None of your business, Tozier,” said Bev, grinning wide but with an expression that said _don’t fucking press me._ Ben’s sweater looked really good on her, covering her until mid-thigh exposing her bare legs with bruises all over because she was a _fucking klutz_ and black boots that matched Richie’s favorite ones.

“Fine, fine, Ringwald. Your escapades are safe with me,” said Richie, imitating the closing of mouth with a key.

“Anyway, isn’t that your shirt on Eddie?” asked Bev, pointing an almost finished cigarette at Eddie’s small form that was still maniacally attacking mac n’ cheese. His fork stopped midway to his mouth, and he stared off ahead of him, for the second time that morning considering different possibilities of Richie’s shirt appearing on him.

“Yeah, Spaghetti probably threw up last night and had to borrow mine. I woke up in a freezing fucking attic, can you believe it?” chuckled Richie, grabbing a pack from Beverly's hand and lighting up another cigarette. Eddie’s mind had projected a vision of Richie’s dark eyes with reflected moonlight in them, but it faded as quickly as it appeared. _What the fuck was he doing in the attic?_

“Wait, Eddie, what is the last thing you remember?” asked Bev, smashing the cigarette butt onto the wooden railing, her scrunched eyebrows directed at Eddie.

“Um, probably when I was making a drink with Richie in the kitchen. Everything else is literally dark,” said Eddie, closing his eyes in an attempt to remember anything at all but was only met with responsive blackness. He shook his head and looked at Bev who was staring into the distance with a worried expression.

_FUCK. They really don’t remember? Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yayyy the morning after and I'm hating how oblivious bois are but whatever, they're too young and dumb, and it will all (hopefully) work out in the end / leave comments plz <3
> 
> P.S. sorry if it's shorter than you expected, I just wanted to split it in two because it makes more sense that way


	9. August, 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Eddie's unfortunate trip to the bar.
> 
> *MENTIONS OF RAPE/NON-CON*  
> *GRAPHIC VIOLENCE*

He would recognize that scream anywhere – all the individual pitches of The Loser’s Club permanently etched in his brain from their childhood trauma. Richie sped up on his walk towards the sound that was painfully familiar, the heavy reality of the situation slowly setting in his head. He waited for Beverly by the bar for ten minutes before he decided to walk in her direction, sensing that her delay could not come from anything good. Richie walked on the same alley that Bev turned on when he heard loud thudding sounds and shrieks of pure pain – the sound of it making all of Richie’s insides shake, and his head hurt with fear and bubbling anger. He now ran as he heard the screaming subside, unsure of whether it was a good or a bad sign. He reached the dark alleyway and saw an outline of a man violently straddling a smaller form on the ground. The tall man moved his head to match with the patch of moonlight ahead, revealing a patch of think blond hair. Richie saw red. 

Without hesitation or any second thought, Richie ran in the direction of a man, slowing down inches from Bev’s sprawled form to swing his sneaker as hard as possible at the blond man’s face. The man was thrown backward with immense force and a gnarly scream, falling sideways straight into the alley wall, losing consciousness on his way down. Richie stood clenching and unclenching his fists, unsure whether the man was going to wake up, barely holding himself from beating his helpless form. He was shaken out of his red rage when he felt Bev’s gentle squeeze on his ankle, and he instantly woke up, realizing that both his friends need immediate assistance. Beverly was barely responsive, closing her eyes every few seconds, battling the unmistakable concussion. Richie leaned in and cupped her face gently, surveying the damage – he knew that most of her bruising was probably internal because the only visible harm on her face was a red blotchy patch on her left cheek and blood enveloping her mouth. He gently turned her sideways to avoid choking on blood, unsure of how bad she was bleeding.

“I’m getting us out of here, Bevvy. Just stay with me, okay?” asked Richie, receiving a barely visible nod from Bev.

He sprinted in the direction of unconscious Eddie, lifting him to rest on his knees, brushing his sticky curls off his face. He took his small wrist and pushed for the pulse, knowing that he was alive from the surprising warmth coming off his body, but he just had to make sure. _I_ _’_ _m so sorry, Eddie. My Eddie. How could I let this happen to you?_ He overlooked the small man’s body, seeing that none of his clothes were touched and his jeans were closed. It seems like they got there on time. He kissed the top of his head and lifted him off the ground, carrying him bridal style and placing him next to Bev who was now moving her arms a little, lacing her fingers with Eddie’s when he was placed next to her. Her eyes were barely open, but Richie could see tears streaming out of them, the image of it all crushing his chest. He was crouching by their two forms, thinking of how he was going to catch a taxi in the middle of the night in a bad neighborhood when he heard the tall man groan and spun around, seeing him trying to stand up holding onto a wall and clutching his head. Richie instantly got up and again, without hesitation, smashed the tall man’s head into a wall, earning a dreadful scream once again. His head bounced back with the man almost falling to the ground, but Richie caught his head again, thoughts of Eddie’s small form on the ground now possessing his mind, and smashed it on the wall once more. He would have done it one more time, knowing that it would’ve killed a guy, but he heard Bev’s small voice saying “Richie…” and he stopped, sinking nails into his palms to prevent himself from committing murder. He knew he had to help his friends and was hoping that the fucker’s head was damaged enough that he would never have the brain cells to do something like that to anyone again.

Richie ran onto the road to look around for taxis and didn’t see any. He stood on the sidewalk for about a minute, turning his head to the alleyway feverishly, checking that the man was unconscious and Eddie and Bev were still there. After about a minute he saw a yellow cab drop someone off in the distance and head their way. He waved his arms madly, hoping that the driver wouldn’t notice Bev’s blood on his hands and would stop for them. The taxi pulled up and rolled down the passenger window to ask where they’re going. Richie told him Bev and Eddie’s address and gave him $50, asking him to keep his mouth shut at what he was about to see. He knew both Eddie and Bev hated doctors with every fiber of their being and didn’t have enough money for the ridiculous medical bills that would have been sprung on them, so Richie decided to wait until they’re conscious to ask them if they need to go to the hospital. He opened the back and front doors of a thankfully spacious cab and ran to the alley to pick up Eddie. He softly nudged Bev to make her open her eyes. She was brought back to consciousness and looked at Richie with heavy lids.

“Bevvy, I’m not leaving either of you alone. I will help you get up, and you can push all of your weight on me, but I need you to try to walk to the cab. Can you do that?” asked Richie gently, waiting for Beverly’s response.

She slowly nodded and started lifting herself unhurriedly, afraid of passing out midway. Bev first propped herself on an elbow and almost fell when she felt Richie’s large hand on her shoulder, steadying her. She then leaned on her hand to sit up, clutching her head and crying out from the miserable throbbing in her skull. Richie now lifted Eddie bridal style again and leaned down to extend the fingers that were poking under Eddie’s legs to help Bev stand up. His arms were whining in pain from the uncomfortable position, but he mustered all of his strength into helping them all get out of there. Bev grabbed onto his fingers with surprising force, pulling herself up and almost making Richie topple over. He positioned himself more steadily, and Bev was finally able to get up, grabbing onto Richie’s elbow and limping towards the cab, her unbearably heavy head resting on Richie’s shoulder. They reached the vehicle and Bev grabbed onto the side of the front passenger door to steady herself, thinking that she needs to sit there because Eddie is unconscious and needs someone to hold him during the drive. She carefully positioned herself in the seat and leaned her head back, trying her hardest not to move anymore. Richie gently placed Eddie’s form on the seat and went to buckle Bev up, closing the door after her. Eddie’s body fell sideways on the seats while Richie was helping Bev, so Richie slowly lifted his head and put it on his knees as he positioned himself in the cab. Eddie wasn’t moving at all, and that made Richie worry a little, but it seemed like his breathing was steady, so he took it as a good sign.

“Do you need a hospital?” asked the cab driver with no real sympathy in his voice.

“No… Home…” said Bev weakly, and Richie nodded at the driver who looked back at him for reassurance.

 

 

It took them less than ten minutes to get home, and Richie gently lifted Eddie’s head off his lap to check on Bev. She was sleeping in the front seat, her breathing steady and regular. Richie sighed in relief and gave the driver extra $20 to carry Bev to her and Eddie’s apartment, refusing to leave either of them alone for one split second. He then took Eddie from the back seat of the cab and went in the direction of the building entrance to lead the way to the place, with the driver slowly walking behind him with Bev in his arms, both carried bridal style. When they reached the door, Richie leaned down a little bit, propping Eddie’s body on the wall next to the door to their apartment. He then reached out to take the keys out of the back pocket of Bev’s jeans, amazed at the fact that they were still there after the night she just had. He opened the door and kicked it with his foot, gesturing for the man to put Bev in her bedroom while he carried Eddie in his, afraid that they might hurt each other if placed in the same room, not really knowing how bad the damage of that night was.

Richie laid Eddie’s unconscious body on his cozy white sheets, taking a second to appreciate how cute his room was. _Just like Eddie._ He propped a pillow under his friend’s head, and Eddie almost instantly turned to his side, clutching the second fluffy pillow to him. Richie warmly smiled at the image and left the room for a little while to escort the taxi driver out of the apartment. The man was already standing next to the front door, and Richie silently gave him another $20 bill, locking up behind him. He took a deep breath to calm himself, rubbing his face a little and feeling the smell of Bev’s dried blood on him. _Bev._ He walked towards her room, deciding to take care of Eddie a little later since he didn’t have any immediate physical damage. He walked into Bev’s room and saw something that resembled his own apartment: a lot of vinyl thrown around, clothes everywhere, boots and sneakers in the middle of the room, empty cigarette boxes on the table, etc. The image made the corner of his mouth to do an appreciative jump, and he sat down on Beverly’s sunflower bedding, putting his hand on hers. She was fast asleep, and he decided to take the time to get her comfortable and clean the blood off.

Richie went to the bathroom and wet one of the darker towels and came back in Bev’s room, gently wiping her face and removing as much blood as he could without rubbing too hard. He grabbed some Neosporin that he also borrowed from the bathroom and put a little on the cut bruising on her left cheek and temple. After taking care of her face, he went into the kitchen and grabbed one of the packs of frozen green beans and put it behind her head, thinking that he would have to change that frequently throughout the night. Richie then took off her boots and tugged the other half of her duvet over her, not wanting to bother her by lifting her body up. He turned off the annoying yellow light and kept the door open, in case he heard her wake up. He made his way into Eddie’s room with a second wet towel, also wiping his face from the remaining puke around his mouth, the image of it all reminding him of his mother too much. _Just when I thought my dad was the alcoholic. How did I never notice?_ He pushed the thoughts away and went on to take Eddie’s Converse off, taking a throw that he had in the corner of the bed and covering him completely. He ran a hand through Eddie’s hair in adoration, a painful look in his eyes that nobody could see. _I still dream about you every single day._ He bent down to kiss Eddie’s temple, a painful tugging in his chest reminding him of when he was 18 years old. He walked out of the room, turning off the lamp on Eddie’s nightstand, turning by the door to take the last look at the boy he loved and went into the living room.

 

 

 

Eddie woke up from horrible pain in his stomach, rolling, or more like falling from the bed to run to the bathroom in a crouching position. He barely made it to the toilet when the chunks of yesterday’s lasagna and some nasty yellow residue made their way out of his mouth, burning his throat and the smell of it making him gag more than the stomachache. After retching several times, one less than the other, he finally found a way to slowly get up from the floor, afraid that the disgust at having his head on the toilet would cause him to throw up again. He propped himself on the sink and pressed the flush as he was getting up, the last bits of the disgusting smell leaving the confines of the small bathroom. Eddie washed his face hastily, having to hold onto the sink most of the time because of how unstable his legs felt. _Am I drunk? There is no way I drank that much alcohol._ He wiped his face with a hand towel and suddenly felt very uncomfortable, throwing his jacket on the floor. _I_ _’_ _ll pick it up later._ He reached into the drawer above the sink to pull out a scented candle and lit it in an attempt to make the smell of puke permanently leave his apartment.

The small man felt unbelievably sick, but he wanted to walk around his apartment and see if that will give him any clues as to how he ended up in his bed in the same clothes he left in last night. The last thing he remembered was saying goodbye to Gary – everything after that was a complete haze – no, more like blank darkness. He peeped into Bev’s open door and saw her barely covered by the duvet and saw a pack of green beans stuck under her head. Eddie scrunched his eyebrows in confusion but decided to replace them since the ones currently on the bed were basically mush. _Maybe she got really drunk too._ He wallowed towards the kitchen, having to prop himself against the wall a couple of times, his head still under the effect of all the alcohol (and something else?) he didn’t remember consuming. _I must_ _’_ _ve had a lot._ He was just turning in the kitchen when he felt his legs stop moving, a small sense of dread washing over him as he saw a lanky form on his sofa. He calmed down almost instantly realizing that it was just Richie, the mop of black hair giving the image away. He sighed in relief and went to grab a pack of peas from the freezer, putting the green beans back where they’d solidify again. Eddie went back to Bev’s room to put the peas under her head gently, and to cover her with the duvet since she shifted a little when he was gone. He left the room to check on Richie, not closing Bev’s door in case she woke up. _Not that she ever closed her door anyway._

The sun just started showing behind the grayness of New York City, and Eddie realized that it was still very early. He slowly made his way to the sofa where Richie’s long body was slumped sideways on the cushions - the position seemed so uncomfortable that Eddie felt bad for him. The small man sat down on the floor by the sofa, his face close to Richie’s that was snoozing peacefully, his glasses askew from the unexpected exhaustion that overcame him. _God, he_ _’_ _s_ _so beautiful_ _._ Eddie felt a familiar tightness in his chest and felt tears welling in his eyes even through the disgusting way he was feeling. He couldn’t stop looking at Richie, the love of his life, the man who he didn’t let himself think about more than necessary. _Does every day count as necessary?_ He kept looking until he decided to finally bless Richie with some comfort and gently took off his glasses that he then placed on the small wooden coffee table in the middle of the living room, pushing some sticky curls from his eyes. He scooted back to the place next to Richie’s face and saw that he started stirring, now fully laying down on the sofa on his back, his long legs hanging off the end of the temporary bed.

Eddie couldn’t stop looking at him, the longing desire to lay on top of him and bury his face in the tall man’s neck overpowering him. He looked at Richie’s beautiful long legs covered in black non-ripped jeans ( _what_?!) that made him swoon, the part of his stomach that exposed grey peeking boxers and a beautiful darkness of hair leading to _fucking nirvana_ that made Eddie’s mouth water, and his bony but exquisite hand that now hung extremely close to where Eddie was sitting. He decided to use the moment when Richie was unconscious to gently trace his fingers through the beautiful long hand of the tall man. I’ _ll blame it later on the fact that I_ _’_ _m still fucking drunk_ _._ Eddie traced the veins that were very prominent on Richie’s hand, gently pressing to make them temporarily disappear. He was entranced with the sight of it - everything about Richie always excited him, ever since he was a kid. He followed his fingers to Richie’s big thumb that he still remembered on his chin more times than he would ever admit, the memories of Richie’s hands on him making him shiver. He wanted to move his fingers to caress Richie’s forearm when he lifted his eyes, and they met half-open chocolate ones with a warmth that was almost too much to handle.

“Am I dreaming again?” Asked Richie, his voice a heart-throbbing rasp. He turned his hand with the palm facing up, catching Eddie’s fingers that were just tracing him.

“Do you dream about me a lot, trashmouth?” Asked Eddie with a soft smirk, his eyes never leaving Richie’s.

“Too much, Eds. But I like it. I can’t have the real thing, so...” he let his voice trail off, caressing Eddie’s hand with his thumb.

Richie turned his body entirely sideways now, too sleepy to register that he was in Eddie’s living room and he wasn’t indeed sleeping. His dreams were always very vivid, and he blamed it on the fact that he always found it very easy to disconnect with reality. Eddie found himself scooting a little closer now, his knees bumping into the bottom of the sofa. He lifted his hand to grab the inside of Richie’s elbow, squeezing a little with uncertainty, the closeness of the tall man intoxicating him. Richie lifted his other arm to caress the outside of his palm on Eddie’s soft face, the small man closing his eyes, obnoxiously long eyelashes fluttering at the touch. Something about that image was painfully familiar to Richie. Eddie opened his eyes a bit and saw Richie’s face dangerously close, his hot morning breath enveloping Eddie, and he found himself caring very little about how bad the kiss might taste but commented on it anyway.

“You might want to reconsider kissing me. I literally threw up less than ten minutes ago,” giggled Eddie, Richie’s proximity doing devious things to his rationality.

“Wait, what?” Richie’s face was suddenly serious, and he quickly sat up, looking at Eddie with scrunched up brows.

“What do you mean, what? You’ve never heard of someone throwing up? The kiss might’ve not been that pleasant, that’s all I’m saying...” said Eddie, smiling shyly at Richie, feeling a lurch of nausea coming over him from talking about throwing up. And, well, _Richie._

“Eds, do you not remember anything? Wait. Fuck. Of course, you don’t.” said Richie with exasperation, one of his hands now rubbing at the temples.

“What should I remember, Rich?” asked Eddie with a small panic in his voice that made Richie’s heart ache.

“Fuck! Bev,” shouted Richie, attempting to get up until he felt Eddie’s hand holding onto his knee that knocked all thoughts out of his head _probably permanently._

“I replaced the ice if that’s what you’re worried about. Did you guys get hammered yesterday too?” Asked Eddie with an amused expression, hoping that the story would contain him getting back to the apartment totally trashed and attacking Richie with his mouth. 

“Come here, Spaghetti.” Said Richie with extreme softness in his voice that also had a dangerous level of sadness, patting a spot on the couch next to him for Eddie to sit down on.

Eddie sat down with one leg bent, completely turned towards Richie, too nervous to make a retort for the nickname. He was looking at the taller man intently, waiting to hear what was so wrong with the night before. _Maybe I jumped him, and he didn_ _’_ _t like it? Oh God, did I try to sleep with both of them?_ Eddie felt himself panicking a little bit, especially since his leg was pressing into Richie’s and the heat coming off of him was close to intoxicating. Richie was rubbing his face intently now, fully aware of how close Eddie was to him and that was distracting him more than his adult body should be feeling, especially considering the events of last night. Richie didn’t know how to tell Eddie what happened without thoroughly upsetting him, but he had to tell him everything.

“Eds, we weren’t with you last night. You went to some bar, and some fucker took advantage of how drunk you were and dragged you off. We were terrified. We barely made it on time,” said Richie with noticeable sorrow in his voice.

“What is the last thing you remember?” asked Richie when he didn’t receive a response from stunned Eddie.

“Um… I… I think saying goodbye to a bartender I know… Maybe ordering another drink? I don’t know,” answered Eddie, desperately trying to claw something out of his mind that would help. _I can_ _’_ _t believe someone tried to take advantage of me._

“Yeah, well, you probably had more drinks. But I’m guessing it wasn’t just that. Your body was completely limp. Only drugs mixed with booze would do that.”

“I don’t remember anyone touching my drinks, but I guess that’s the point. Wait, so how did you guys end up there?”

“You called Bev on the house number from the pay phone, and you sounded really scared and very drunk, so we rushed to the only bar Bev knew around here. Then we split up, and she was the one who found you first.”

“Wait, what were the green beans for? Is she okay?” asked Eddie, finally putting pieces together in his hazy mind.

“I think she was pushed to the ground or something. It seems like she had a concussion and the back of her head was bleeding.”

“She might need stitches. I have to look at it,” said Eddie and stood up to walk over to Bev’s bedroom. He came back just over a minute later and took the same position. “Seems like it wasn’t too bad – she won’t need stitches. But she definitely needs rest and a lot of ice.”

“Good. I wasn’t really sure what to do, but I know that ice helps a lot,” said Richie looking down on his hands, still in a bit of a trance with everything that happened that night.

“Hey, thank you for coming for me. I don’t even want to know what would have happened if not for you guys, especially if there were drugs involved,” said Eddie taking Richie’s hand in his and squeezing it slightly.

“I would never let anyone hurt you or Bev, Eds. Ever,” said Richie with painful earnestness in his voice, looking as if he wanted to say much more but restrained himself. Eddie gave him a small smile and then felt something bumpy on the inside of Richie’s palm – nail marks.

“What’s this?”

“Oh. I… um… had to restrain myself back there from killing the asshole. Maybe I should’ve. But I wasn’t thinking straight after what I saw him do to Bev and you. Bev’s voice kind of brought me back to reality,” said Richie, barely remembering hitting the man, the feeling of rage making the memories very blurry.

“I’m glad you didn’t kill him. But he deserved the punching for sure,” said Eddie, softly tracing the nail marks left on Richie’s palm.

“Hey, I wouldn’t mind sleeping a little more – I kind of still feel very shitty. Our sofa is tiny, and you can’t really fit here well, you’ll break your neck. Do you want to come sleep until Bev wakes up? My room is closer to hers than living room anyway, and we’ll need to take care of her in the morning,” said Eddie, words rolling off his tongue faster than he can rationalize. He desperately wanted Richie’s warmth, but also he did truly think that it will be better for them both to be closer to Bev since she suffered a lot more than anyone else that night.

“Um… Sure. Sounds like a plan,” answered Richie, softly squeezing Eddie’s hand and trying to avoid looking him in the eye.

Eddie stood up without notice and made the way to his room, peeking into Bev’s bedroom on his way there just in case. After confirming her sleeping soundly, he took off his t-shirt and threw it in the laundry basket by the mirror, fishing out another clean white one from one of his drawers. Richie walked in then and realized that his clothes are dirty too from crouching in the nasty alley, and turned away from Eddie’s undressing form to take his own clothes off on the other end of the room. Richie took off his sneakers and socks, jacket, and jeans, stacking one on top of the other in an untidy pile on the floor. The light in Eddie’s room was off, but there were soft blue and orange hues radiating from the window, showing the beginning of the sunrise, and the whole atmosphere was a lot more domestic than Richie thought was appropriate for the whole situation. The silence between the two men somehow felt extremely comfortable, even if they now both stood in their shirts and boxers, awkwardly shuffling their feet. Eddie made the first move by switching his used socks with fuzzy ones from the drawer – he always slept with his socks on. Richie slowly made his way to the bed and decided not to get under the duvet, knowing that he wasn’t fresh out of the shower and that would piss Eddie off. He covered himself with the huge white throw that was on Eddie before and turned towards the other side of the bed, waiting for the smaller man to join him. Eddie made his way to his side before stopping first to notice the glass of water and Advil on the table, looking at Richie quickly before swallowing the pills and drinking half the glass. He then finally crawled into his space on the left side, also laying down and facing Richie. The two softly smiled at each other before finally closing their eyes and falling asleep faster than they have in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeeeere it is, folks! so sorry for the delay in updates but school is literally butchering me and work is unforgiving so plz be patient with me ;( 
> 
> I really really tried not to rush with this chapter because I wanted it to do justice to the characters' emotions - that's why it's so overly descriptive
> 
> also just FYI: Eddie and Bev hate hospitals for their own reasons (Eddie's insane mom and Bev's sexual abuse where no doctors helped her), that's why they're so against it and hate doctors; I will also talk about that in later chapters
> 
> also, I realize it wasn't the best way for Richie and Eddie to finally reconnect, but dramatics/traumatics tend to bring people closer together (aka allusion to Pennywise-ass)
> 
> hope you like it and plz leave comments I LOVE YOU ALL <3


	10. January 1st, 1995

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loser's Club unravels the mysteries of last night.
> 
> *MENTIONS OF RAPE/NON-CON*

“Sooo, Marsh. Are we going to talk about you and Haystack or should I pretend he didn’t nail you to the floor like one of his cheerleaders?”

Bev smacked Richie on the arm with surprising force, earning a loud “OW” and a fake pained expression from the tall boy. They were now sitting on Bill’s bed while everyone else was cleaning, with the window opened for the cigarette smoke to come out. They knew that Bill would scream at them later for smoking in his room but they were kicked out of the living room area since their cleaning techniques were as good as a person stepping on the ice for the first time. So now they sat on the bed, the used sheets thrown on the floor after Richie told Bev that Bill’s room had a sock on it the entire night. They giggled at the image of Bill’s disheveled bed when they came in, but they’d be lying if what happened between him and Stan was a surprise.

“Shut up, you idiot. We didn’t have sex. Not really,” said Bev with a surprisingly painful expression.

“How can you ‘not really’ have sex?”

“He didn’t put his dick in me. Happy?” said Bev with a ridiculous face, trying very hard not to smile at her own comment.

“Oh. Well, why not?”

“You know why,” said Bev, looking away from Richie and staring off into the white snowy morning.

“I mean, that makes sense. I just thought it was different with him.”

“It is. It always was. But I guess my body doesn’t really agree,” said Bev with noticeable pain in her voice.

Beverly was sitting crisscrossed on the bed facing Richie with the same position, occasionally staring off into the distance to avoid his pity stare. She was still wearing Ben’s huge sweater and couldn’t find it within herself to take it off. Ever since her father took it into his own hands to teach her sex-ed, she couldn’t bear to be touched by a man. Unfortunately, Ben included. Every time they kissed or made out, and she found his hands trailing over her body, an image of her father’s lust-filled dark eyes filled her head, and she found herself pushing Ben off her before she even knew she was doing it. They tried to make it work when she just moved back to Derry but she couldn’t keep him tied to her when they couldn’t even do a lot of touching, and he deserved someone who’d go with him all the way. Ben tried to go on a few dates with one of the cheerleaders (who looked painfully a lot like a charity version of Bev), but he couldn’t even bring himself to kiss her, so nothing really worked out for him either. Beverly realized that her only chance at getting affection would be from girls, and she stuck with that until this party that brought her confusion to a whole another level.

“Hey, you know that Haystack will never stop loving you, right? He doesn’t really seem like someone who’d care about sex that much anyway,” said Richie, trying to sound casual and take the pity out of his voice, since he knew how much Bev hated that.

“He told me he doesn’t, but we both know that I can’t attach him to myself like that. He deserves more, Rich,” said Bev, throwing a finished cigarette in a plastic cup with water because they were sitting too far from the window.

“Okay, but can I ask how far you went? Because Haystack may love you more than any damsel in these far lands, but he’s still a bloody lad,” said Richie with a worse than usual British accent.

“Let’s just say that his tongue did wonders that no other damsel could ever do for me,” answered Bev, raising one of her eyebrows at Richie in mock expression. 

“I knew it! I knew he’d be a fucking sex god! Did you at least return the favor?” Bev shook her head as a ‘no’, giggling uncontrollably at the memories of Ben between her legs.

“Marsh, you are a monster! Who does that?!”

“HE DIDN’T ASK ME TO!” she fell on her back, clutching at her stomach from the uncontrollable laughter. They were both laughing their asses off until Eddie barged into the room, his face prominently showing the fuming mood.

“Can you fuckers shut the fuck up? Mike is still sleeping and so do a lot of passed out girls in the bathrooms, and I do NOT want to wake them up, or clean after them, or talk to anyone I don’t know, so keep your shit down!” he was saying it all while closing the door behind him and quickly making his way to the bed, earning very amused expressions from Bev and Richie.

“How come you have so much anger in you this early in the morning, short stack?” asked Richie while taking the last drag of his cigarette before throwing it into the cup without looking, a playful smirk on his face. Eddie made a face that screamed ‘offended’, opening his mouth in an exaggerated ‘oh’. 

“Don’t fucking call me a short stack, you lanky collection of forest debris!” screamed Eddie, hitting Richie on the arm and making the tall boy laugh at the comment. Bev observed their interaction with a look on her face that showed she was about to burst.

“Hey, hey, Spaghetti, I may be tall, but you’re into that sort of thing, so what are you complaining about?” said Richie, rubbing on his arm and grinning at Eddie with a _very kissable expression._ _Shit._

“Shut the fuck up. And, Jesus, why are you still half-naked?! Do you want to get pneumonia? I swear to god, if I have to bring you all the homework to the hospital one more time, I will strangle you myself,” said Eddie with exasperation, all the while taking Richie’s shirt off and throwing it in his face in a clumped ball. Richie quickly put the shirt on laughing, realizing that the small boy is right and he had goosebumps on his skin for a full hour now. 

“I thought I liked you in my shirt, Eds, but this is definitely an improvement,” said Richie, eyeing Eddie’s chest and torso up and down.

Some kind of filthy bravery took over his mind, and he pinched the part of Eddie’s stomach where his _heavenly_ trail was, earning a smack on the hand from the small boy. Richie drooled at the blush spreading from Eddie’s cheeks all the way to the middle belly, and he felt the familiar tightness in his pants, thankful for the way he was sitting on the bed to shield his embarrassment. Eddie was too flustered to make a retort and smacked Richie’s arm before turning around and starting to fish in Bill’s drawers for some kind of a sweater, still unaware that his button-down is unsalvageable. Richie lit another cigarette and glanced at Bev whose eyebrows were so high up on her forehead that they could probably reach the damn ceiling by now. Richie threw his chin up at her, as if asking ‘what’s up’ but she just shook her head, softly laughing. Richie glanced at Eddie’s form bent by Bill’s drawers, dramatically sighing.

“I’m enjoying the view, Edward,” said Richie with his voice lower than he intended and he swore he saw visible goosebumps cover Eddie’s back. _How does he have such a perfect ass? Fucking khakis._

“Do you ever shut up? And why are you even so horny in the morning, didn’t you get fucked last night?” answered Eddie with a prominent blush on his cheeks, turning around to face Richie while putting Bill’s dark blue sweater on that he had to roll in the sleeves and on the bottom to make up for the lack of height.

“I’m horny for your cute self 24/7, Eds,” said Richie, tugging at the bottom of Bill’s sweater since Eddie was now back where he was standing, trying to drag him closer to the bed.

“Okay, this is making me both horny and uncomfortable, so I’m going to go help out. Bye, lovers,” said Bev, throwing the last cigarette into the cup and jumping off the bed to head for the door.

Richie was still tugging Eddie towards him, the small boy now so close that he could smell his strawberry shampoo. _Shit._ Richie didn’t really know what he wanted from this interaction, but he just wanted Eddie closer, to hug him, squeeze him, touch his perky butt, kiss his neck, kiss his lower belly, kiss his…

“Wait up, Bev!” screamed Eddie, jumping away from Richie’s dark chocolate eyes that were visibly undressing him, afraid that his growing boner will become too visible not to be embarrassed about. The small boy left Richie looking out in his direction with a desperation that was way more than physical.

  

 

Eddie and Bev cutely hopped down the stairs, grabbing a couple of used cups on their way down, giggling at the fact that they were still half-drunk. Eddie stopped jumping when he felt a wave of nausea hit him and decided that he might need to hydrate a little more. He made his way to the kitchen that was already clean per his incredible tidying talents and grabbed a glass from the cupboard to pour himself some tap water. He wouldn’t have done it anywhere else, not even in his own house, but Bill’s family had a filter installed, and all of the water was clean at all times (even in the toilet, not that he’d ever drink that). He leaned his back to the sink, observing the commotion in the living room from a little opening above the ‘bar’ that overlooked that room. Mike finally woke up and was visibly flustered, not knowing how to gently reject the blond girl that found herself clinging to his neck. He said something that really offended her and Eddie heard a loud slap, almost dropping his glass on the ground. He giggled and saw Mike make his way to the kitchen, his cheek covered in a red hue. _Damn, that girl is strong._

“Had a rough night?”

“Tell me about it, man. I remember everything, sadly, but why the fuck did I fall asleep hugging her? She thinks we’re getting married now,” said Mike, laughing out loud at how much of an asshole he sounded, but it’s not like he was actually going to date a high school freshman.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I think you’re the only one who didn’t get fucked last night,” said Eddie, not wanting to go into detail about the telltale signs, sipping on the glass of water.

“Damn, that doesn’t make me feel better. Why was I thrown out of the loop? Did you all have an orgy or something?” said Mike, opening the fridge to look for some food, not seeing how red Eddie’s face got.

“Believe it or not, some of us go out of the group to stick it. Not that Stan and Bill had to go far,” said Eddie snorting.

“Whatever, man. It’s kind of funny, actually,” said Mike, pushing his fork into a mushy mix of cold, stale nachos.

“What’s funny, Michael?” asked Richie, stepping into the kitchen barefoot with a cigarette tucked behind his ear and a nasty cup from upstairs in his hand.

“EW, Richie, you better throw that thing into a toilet bowl right this fucking second!” squealed Eddie when he saw what Richie was holding in his hand and ignoring how _unbelievably hot_ he looked disheveled in the morning.

“I only brought it downstairs so you can have a sip, Spaghetti,” said Richie, extending his arm to put the cup right into Eddie’s nose, earning a possibly exaggerated gag.

“You fucking imbecile! You know how much I hate cigarettes and this fucking cup smells like tobacco factory waste!” screamed Eddie, hitting Richie on the chest and earning a shit eating grin from the tall boy.

“I love hearing you squeal, Eddie, my love. Makes my insides all warm and fuzzy,” said Richie with surprising earnestness in his voice that made both boys blush.

Richie decided to break (or make) the tension and planted a wet kiss on Eddie’s cheek, earning yet another squeal, and quickly ran to the nearest bathroom to discard the disgusting contents of the cup. Eddie spilled some water on himself when Richie kissed him, not that it didn’t happen before, but his body reacted much more different for some reason, and the feeling of Richie’s lips on him went straight to his dick. He turned back to the sink to refill his cup, thinking that he will occupy his brain as much as possible with the simple action of hydration. _I know that I_ _’_ _m a growing boy, but this is getting really out of hand._ Mike was observing their interaction like his favorite sitcom, munching on his nachos with a playful smirk.

“You guys bicker worse than any married couple I know,” said Mike as if he stated the most obvious thing in the world, and Eddie’s face got red all over again.

“No, we don’t. He’s just insufferable, and I try hard every day to keep myself from strangling him.”

“Eddie, you just described every married couple,” said Mike, winking at Eddie and making the small boy flush again.

“Shut up, Mike, it’s not like that,” said Eddie, trying to cover his face with the glass of water.

“W-what’s not like that?” said Bill, entering the kitchen in grey sweatpants and a grey hoodie, wearing his dad’s brown home slippers.

“Eddie is in denial that he and Richie are basically a married couple. Please confirm,” said Mike, stuffing a crazy amount of nachos in his mouth.

“Oh, y-yeah. F-for sure,” said Bill, beaming up at Eddie and after noticing how red he got, came up to him to give him a half-hug.

Eddie returned it, wrapping one arm around Bill’s waist but keeping his brows furrowed from the comments about him and Richie. Stanley then entered the room in his khakis and a blue polo, looking like he woke up to go straight to school and not a trace of the hangover on him. Eddie could never understand how Stan’s curls managed to look literally perfect at all times. _Fuck this pretty boy._ Stan looked at the hugging Bill and Eddie in front of him and involuntarily gave Eddie a glare.

“What is up your ass, Stanley?” asked Eddie, a little uncomfortable with how Stan was looking at him.

“Bill was a couple of hours ago, amirite?” screamed Richie holding a hand up for a high five, entering the kitchen with his other arm draped over Bev who was holding the now empty filthy cup in her hand.

Bill put a hoodie on himself and tried to hide his entire reddening face, while Stan just stood there with a pure shock on his face, visibly paling instead of getting red.

“Why, are you jealous, Tozier?” said Stanley, suddenly possessed with an urge to protect his new relationship.

“Oh shit, Uris, as hot as Billiam is, this shit belongs to my dear Eddie-bear,” said Richie, palming his dick with an amused expression, only breaking face when he heard Eddie full-on choke on his water.

“Yeah, only it belongs to half the school, man-whore,” barked Stanley, turning away from laughing Richie and getting orange juice out of the fridge.

“W-wait, d-did you guys..?” asked Bill pulling his hoodie off, looking at Eddie who was still shaking the water off Bill’s sweater and Richie’s dumb-struck expression. He felt Eddie freeze against him.

“NO! Ew, what the fuck, Bill? Just because you and Stanley finally had 7 seconds in a whore house, doesn’t mean that everyone here slept with each other!” screamed Eddie, getting out of Bill’s embrace and turning to the sink to put the cup down and, well, in case he needs to _throw the fuck up._ He didn’t notice a pained expression on Bev’s face.

That’s when Ben decided to make an entrance and instantly reddened at the moment, the blush on his face standing out prominently against the stark white of his t-shirt. He immediately looked at Bev who turned red probably the first time in her life, and everyone’s eyes widened, and laughter erupted all over the kitchen, spreading warmth and familiarity through a room full of love.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soo this was a very cutesicle chapter, amirite :3
> 
> I love my Losers and wanted to write a chapter with everyone at least a little bit involved, so don't blame me for the shortness of it plz
> 
> hope you liked it and please leave comments!
> 
> P.S. I live for Stan and Richie's banter.


	11. September, 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie's opening weekend is coming up, and he and Richie have to figure out a way to surprise Beverly for her birthday.

It has now been two weeks since the horrible incident that took place in downtown Manhattan. Turns out, the man who wanted to take advantage of Eddie basically did that for a living, and nobody was as shocked as the three friends when they saw his face pop up on CNN ‘Breaking News’ about his beat-up body found in an alley, the name ‘THOMAS ROGAN’ written in white over a red line on the screen. Eddie looked impressively at Richie after they showed the man’s beat up face, and then went into Bev’s room to kiss her on the cheek. They spent the rest of the day together, and Richie stayed over for two more nights on the couch to keep an eye on both of them.

 

Richie and Eddie were better than ever. They weren’t friends per se, but they were trying to make amends for everyone’s sake, especially Beverly’s. Bev was recovering fairly quickly but took time with her rest, and spent the two weeks in the apartment, with Eddie occasionally stepping out for his dance practice. Eddie told their cute neighbor lady that Bev wasn’t feeling well, and asked her to check on her from time to time, which she was apparently very glad to do. Beverly was beaming when Eddie told her, lying in bed and trying not to move too much. But now that sufficient time has passed and they were on the last week of rehearsals before the opening weekend next week, Eddie couldn’t help but feel that it was the end of something – he just hoped that he was wrong.

 

He and Richie were sitting in the break room on Thursday afternoon, quietly enjoying each other’s company. Eddie reached out under his chair to pull out a small bag filled with containers and handed one to Richie, earning a confused furrowed brow from the tall man.

 

“The crafty here is disgusting, and I know you don’t buy anything but coffee from there. I cooked a lot because you were coming over, so this is a chicken spinach pasta, you better like this,” said Eddie, pointing his finger at Richie with a mock threat.

 

“Well, thank you, Spaghetti-man. I am flattered by your concern about my caffeine consumption,” said Richie reaching out to grab the container, beaming at Eddie from his chair, a small hint of pink visible on his pale cheeks.

 

“It’s not really the caffeine consumption – more like your lack of eating throughout the day and then eating a full pizza by yourself, which, by the way, can kill you,” said Eddie and after seeing Richie’s warm smile blushed feverishly and started stuffing his face to avoid talking.

 

They ate in silence for a while, stealing glances at each other and making a mess out of trying to concentrate on their food. Eddie really did cook a lot of extra food - Richie has been coming over a lot, and he wanted to make sure that he was a hospitable host. Because it’s not as if he actually looked forward to those visits. _Absolutely, yes_.

 

“So, how is Bev doing? I haven’t been there for a couple of days,” said Richie with some sadness in his voice - he didn’t want to disturb Eddie, and stopped showing up at the apartment when Bev got a little better.

 

“I think she’s doing pretty great. She started drawing - I didn’t even know she could draw. She’s really fucking good,” said Eddie with a soft fascinated smile, his love for Beverly very visible on his face.

 

“I remember her drawing during senior year. But she only ever drew clothes,” said Richie, thinking back to the days when he hung out at Bev’s apartment and smoked copious cigarettes with her while she sketched dresses.

 

“Yeah, she draws clothes now too. But they’re really good, and she gives it so much detail, I don’t know why I’ve never seen her draw before.”

 

“Hey, isn’t her birthday coming up?” _Shit._ Eddie furrowed his brows and felt a tinge of disappointment from forgetting about Bev’s upcoming birthday. He felt so consumed with the rehearsals, and then Richie showing up, that he completely forgot to plan something out.

 

“Fuck, you’re right. I completely forgot. She usually leaves to visit her aunt but she can’t travel after the concussion, and she’ll stay here. We have to make it special,” said Eddie, looking very hopefully at Richie.

 

“Wait, you want me to help? Are you sure you want to spend this much time with me?” asked Richie before he had time to think.

 

“Um… Yeah. I mean, we have to do this for her, and things have been better between us, haven’t they?” asked Eddie, avoiding Richie’s eyes.

Richie waited for a beat to answer the question. “Yeah, Eds. I think we’re better,” said the tall man and smiled warmly at Eddie, even if he wasn’t looking. “We could meet up at my place on the weekend, if you’re okay with that since you live with Bev and all.”

 

_Fuck. His place. Of course, he has his own place. How did I not think of that before?_ “Um, sure. I think that’s the best option. What about Saturday morning?” _Best option?!_

“Sounds good, Eds. Bring coffee,” said Richie throwing a wink at Eddie before heading out to the bathroom, leaving the small man with pink cheeks.

 

 

 

 

 

Eddie got back to the apartment later that evening to find Bev by the stove with a wrap on her head that held an ice pack in the back. He softly closed the door and put a duffel bag by the entrance before leaning on one of the counters to look at Beverly. Seeing Bev in the kitchen made Eddie smile but also terrified for his life – his best friend couldn’t cook even if the best chef in the world guided her. He closed the door softly and made his way to stand by Beverly who was leaning on the stove backward with a sketchbook in hand, the eggs on the pan turning brown quicker than they should.

 

“Are you gonna get that?” asked Eddie smirking, pointing at the steaming pan, the smell of burnt food slowly enveloping the apartment.

 

“Oh, shit!” squealed Bev, dropping the sketchbook and pencil on the counter, grabbing the pan and yanking it to the cooler side. She leaned with her palms on the edge of the stove, loudly breathing out from relief. _I really wanted the yolk to be runny. Fuck._

“I did leave you a lot of food, you know. You shouldn’t be standing that much anyway,” said Eddie grabbing the sketchbook and looking through the work that he hasn’t seen before. He raised his eyes to meet Beverly’s soft and guilty expression, shoulders covered by a navy blue cotton robe raising in an ‘oh well’ movement.

 

“I just felt really bad that you spent the whole past two weeks cooking, cleaning, and taking care of me. I wanted to try to make a meal for myself. I’m sure it would’ve been edible if I actually paid attention,” said Bev, coming to the other side of Eddie to look at her sketches too.

 

“You saved my life, Bev. Of course, I took care of you, don’t be ridiculous.”

 

“We do save each other’s lives a lot for people of our age.”

 

“After everything we’ve been through, I don’t think we should even be surprised anymore. I just wish I wasn’t an unconscious mess when you were getting beat up,” said Eddie with a sad and guilty expression on his face.

 

“We already talked about this. You were drugged AND drunk, Eddie. There was nothing you could do, okay?” asked Bev, pinching Eddie’s cheek a little which painfully reminded him of his childhood.

 

“Speaking of, did you take your painkillers, and drink six glasses of water?” asked Eddie just like he did for the past couple of days when he was gone, trying to make sure that Bev took care of herself when he wasn’t around.

 

“Yeah, yeah, Dr. Kaspbrak. I also made sure to finger myself and smoke a pack of cigarettes, which was prescribed by one of your nurses.”

 

“Ew, Bev! You bitch,” laughed Eddie, nudging her with his shoulder and giggling. “And who might the fantastic nurse be?”

 

“Nurse Tozier, of course. He told me that releasing collected sexual tension will help with the throbbing pain in the head. Said it helps him a lot,” giggled Bev, unable to keep a straight face while talking about Richie.

 

“Yeah, and which head was he talking about?” asked Eddie raising a brow incredulously, earning a loud laugh from Beverly.

 

“I’m glad that you’re finally able to joke about him. Seeing you guys talk again makes me very happy,” said Bev, looking at Eddie expectantly.

 

“It’s nice, I guess. But if we’re ever going to be friends again, it will take an enormous amount of time, so don’t get your hopes up,” said Eddie, shuffling through the pages of the sketchbook.

 

Bev stepped away from the counter and tossed the burnt eggs in the trashcan before dumping the pan in the sink. “Hey, a girl can dream.”

 

Eddie turned the sketchbook towards Bev, ignoring her comment and showing her one of her latest drawings. “This one is really good, I think it’s my favorite,” said Eddie, showing her a sketch of a pretty summer dress with sunflowers on it.

 

“Thanks, I think it’s mine too. I got an inspiration from my sheets when I was laying down yesterday. Sunflowers are my favorite flowers anyway,” said Bev, earning a warm smile from Eddie who remembered to buy her some fresh ones to replace the dying pile in her room.

 

“As if nobody knows,” said Eddie, rolling his eyes playfully and handing Bev her sketchbook.

 

“Hey, Bill and Stan called, they said they might come down for my birthday.”

 

“Oh yeah? That’s awesome! You’re staying here, right?” asked Eddie hopefully.

 

“I think I will. Honestly, spending birthdays at my aunt’s house are getting more boring by the year. She’s crazy busy and we never really get to do anything,” said Bev, setting the sketchbook on the counter again and pulling out some leftovers to heat for her and Eddie.

 

“Well, that’s good. Bill and Stan are staying here, right? God, please tell me that they didn’t say they’re going to need ‘privacy’” said Eddie rolling his eyes again, earning a chuckle from Bev.

 

Bev put the large container in the microwave and hit 2 minutes. “No, they’re definitely staying here. You know Stan, he’d never spend a penny more than he has to.”

 

“Right. Do you think they’d go to see “Cats”? I don’t know if that’s too gay for them,” said Eddie, fumbling with his fingers. He really wasn’t sure if his friends would want to see him dance, they never went to any of his previous performances because of how busy they were, but now that they had time, he worried that they wouldn’t want to.

 

Bev doubled over in laughter. “Eddie, I don’t think anything is too gay for them. And they always wanted to see you dance, but they live in Connecticut and they also JUST graduated college. Stan’s gotten busier with med school, but thankfully Bill makes sure to pull him out of his misery with trips to see us, so don’t worry – we’ll force them to go even if they’re falling asleep standing up.”

 

“Wait, how long are they staying?”

 

“About a week, I think. Stan has managed to convince his school to give him a week off since he’s the top of his class, and Bill’s starting position doesn’t care what he does anyway,” said Bev, pulling out the container carefully and taking out two bowls from the cupboards to split the remaining chicken noodle soup in two.

 

“I can’t believe they’re coming for more than two days. Last time I saw them we barely had time to talk – they literally slept on the pull-out for almost the whole time,” said Eddie, undoing Bev’s wrap to check on how the healing with her head was going and to change the ice pack in the back.

 

“Well, they’re always fucking exhausted. This time we’ll get to show them our favorite spots and actually properly hang out. Do you think they’d want to see Richie?” asked Bev and she heard Eddie freeze up by the fridge door.

 

“He hasn’t talked to them this whole time?” asked Eddie with a shocked expression.

 

Bev set down two bowls and two spoons on the bar counter. “Not really. I mean, he’s been in Derry that whole time and I know he spoke to them a couple of times from Mike’s phone but that’s about it.”

 

Eddie furrowed his brows and pulled out a different ice pack from the freezer, thinking over what Bev said. He knew that Richie alienated himself from a lot of people, but he didn’t know that he wasn’t the only one who got the silent treatment. He remembered how going to college he thought he'd spend most of the nights talking to Richie on the phone, but the tall boy has ignored most of them, and then stopped answering for a while. Eddie decided that Richie doesn’t need him anymore, and after hearing a woman that wasn’t Richie’s mom on the phone one time, he stopped calling altogether, figuring that Richie’s moved on and there was no point in trying. Their conversations grew distant and awkward anyway, and Eddie knew it was only a matter of time until one of them pulled a plug. He really didn’t expect Richie to stop talking to Stan and Bill though – it just didn’t make sense. Eddie was sure that their lack of communication was because of their unspoken romance, but what about Stan and Bill? How did they fit in the picture? Eddie sat down on the stool and started chewing a half-warm soup, too distracted by his thoughts of how to ask Richie about the past couple of years.

 

 

 

 

 

Eddie was making his way to Richie’s apartment on Saturday morning, praying to all existing gods that he doesn’t embarrass himself in front of his old love. _Fuck, we_ _’_ _re going to be alone. Shit, shit, shit, shit._ Those thoughts tumbled on Eddie so suddenly that he almost dropped two drinks in his hands. Richie told him about a place called ‘Starbucks’ that Eddie wasn’t very fond of, but he decided to stop by there to get the coffee since they opened earlier than his favorite cafes anyway. He had no fucking clue what Richie drinks in his coffee, and settled for a Mocha Frappuccino with extra whipped cream, hoping that the tall man loved sugar in his mature age as much as he loved it in high school. The drink looked a lot like a milkshake, and Eddie just hoped that it would be okay with Richie.

 

He was hopping down the avenue when he spotted the building that looked a lot like Richie described, and swerved momentarily to enter the door to the apartment complex. He was listening to ‘Uptown Girl’ on his Walkman CD, stomping his foot on the beat and mouthing the lyrics giddily. Eddie wasn’t sure what overcame him, but he was in an amazing mood, and he wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of that. His white Converse were strutting down the hallway to Richie’s apartment, the shoulders covered by a maroon sweatshirt lifting with the momentum of the song. His rolled-up washed up jeans were shuffling comfortably on his body as he danced down the hallway, careful not to spill his vanilla latte and whatever the hell he got for Richie. _Thank god I_ _’_ _m an actual dancer._

He finally reached the door to the apartment 6B and carefully knocked, knowing that 6:30 am wasn’t the usual time people woke up on the weekend. Eddie was used to waking up early – most of his auditions and call times happened around this time, and he taught his body to adjust in his Junior year of college. He was about to knock the second time when he heard the lock going out of its socket, and he pushed his headphones down with the heel of his palm, a little self-conscious with how loud Billy Joel’s music was still playing.

 

Richie opened the door lazily, and Eddie noticed that he definitely just woke up. His hair was a (hot) mess, and he was wearing a messy white shirt that was wrinkled all over, standing barefoot with ridiculously short ‘Star Wars’ pajama pants. He was leaning on the door with his eyes half-closed and Eddie thought there was nothing more beautiful in the whole wide world.

 

“No offense, Eds, but when I thought you said ‘morning’, I thought you meant somewhere around 11 am,” said Richie with a hoarse voice that made Eddie’s insides turn.

 

“First, don’t call me that at this ungodly hour, or ever. Second, I have a very busy weekend because we’re opening next week and we need to get this planning done as soon as possible,” the small man extended the Frappuccino in Richie’s direction, hoping to soften him up a little.

 

Richie furrowed his brown before his eyes rested on the amount of whipped cream trapped under the lid. “How did you know?” said Richie now grinning wide.

 

“You always had a sweet tooth, trashmouth,” said Eddie, smiling at Richie happily, trying to ignore the jump that his stomach made at the brush of their fingers when Richie reached out to take the drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiii, I wrote and posted this wine drunk, so don't judge me, I'm sensitive (but I allow you to butcher me - I'm going to hell anyway)
> 
> also, did you see what I did there with Tom?! I meeeeean  
> I'm trying to tie in some of the book cannons because I have deep respect for original work, but I still do feel like me & Mr. King need to sit down and discuss some of the decisions he's made as an author (Y'ALL KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT)
> 
> anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, my dudes
> 
> YOU COMMENTS FEED MY DARK SOUL <3
> 
> P.S. I know this is disgustingly short but I'm too busy and I want to deliver content?! ya know?!


	12. April, 1995

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Loser's Club celebrates Eddie's 18th birthday.

Eddie was sprawled on his barely queen mattress, trying very hard to enjoy the spinning sensation in his head. He always knew that his friends would never let him spend his 18th birthday without a lot of alcohol, and a LOT of fun. A goofy drunk smile was taking over his features as he remembered how they spent the most wonderful Saturday of his life.

 

 

 

He woke up to the sound of thundering footsteps and an extremely loud banging on his door, figuring that his mother decided to make him do 3,000 chores on his birthday. _Typical._ He turned over on his stomach and buried his face in a pillow, one that was on the other side of his bed and smelled a lot like Jolly Ranchers and cigarettes. He took a whiff of his favorite scent and groaned loudly in the soft pillow, noticing that the knocking stopped almost immediately. 

“Spaghetti, you better not be having sex with a cute boy in there, my jealous heart can’t take it!” screamed Richie, now pounding on the door with his sneakers.

Eddie abruptly lifted his head, his eyes rounding obnoxiously in surprise over Richie’s voice. He knew that he’d most likely show up to pick him up, but he didn’t expect him that early – and definitely didn’t expect his mother to let him in. “I’m jerking off, you moron, go back home!” screamed Eddie, now laughing at his own comment.

“Now I’m even more jealous – I believe you need assistance, my dear sir,” said Richie with his key obnoxious British accent.

Eddie sighed loudly before jumping off the bed and making his way to unlock the door to his room. His stomach made a familiar jump at the sight of Richie’s form, and he couldn’t help but think for the millionth time that he looked fantastic in the morning. Richie was leaning on the door frame with one arm; the other stuck in the pocket of his navy shorts that barely touched his pointy knees. His legs were crossed in a relaxed position, and his red short-sleeved button-up was open to reveal a canary yellow t-shirt that somehow looked perfect on him. Eddie knew that Richie generally had no sense of fashion, or what really looked good together, and only ever dressed up for big parties. Otherwise, he looked exactly like the 12-year-old version of himself which made Eddie’s heart ache.

Richie noticed Eddie giving him the head-to-toe treatment and decided to do the same since he was a _born flirt anyway_. Morning Eddie was his favorite Eddie – his soft, beautiful face looked extra gorgeous with red marks from the pillow, and his wavy hair curled at the ends from his sweaty fidgeting. He almost always wore Richie’s t-shirts because he claimed they were most comfortable, and he was now in one of the grey ones that Richie couldn’t fit in since 8 th grade. He was wearing his favorite (or so Richie thought, not that he paid too much attention) plaid red boxer shorts and his tanned legs were pleasantly revealed for the tall boy to silently drool over. Eddie was leaning on the door and smiling sleepily at Richie, and everything be damned if Richie didn’t want to die from the love he felt exploding out of his chest.

“Hey, trashmouth,” said Eddie softly, his voice a bit raspy from the sudden intrusion on his sleep, _AND KILL ME NOW, I_ _’_ _D DIE FOR THIS BOY A HUNDRED TIMES OVER._

“Birthday Spaghetti, it is time to awaken!” roared Richie, picking up Eddie off the ground and hoisting him underneath the small boy’s ass, jumping up and down with Eddie almost reaching the ceiling with his head.

“Stop it, you dick! We’ll make a dent in the roof! Put me down!” screamed Eddie but also laughed really hard, holding onto the collar of Richie’s button-up for dear life.

Richie slowly slid Eddie down the front of his body, tensing up a little when he felt the small boy’s morning wood brushing against his stomach. He visibly gulped but had his eyes stuck to Eddie’s now stunned expression, the sexual tension so distinct that its energy alone could shatter windows in the room. Eddie now felt Richie’s hands on his ass burning through the fabric of his boxers, making his entire body ignite with something bad and scalding. He was now on the ground, but his hands were clutching to the unbuttoned sides of Richie’s shirt, his eyes glued to Richie’s almost black ones. There was so much _unspoken shit_ between them that was getting more noticeable by day, but neither wanted to make a move, too afraid of what it might do to their relationship.

The spell was broken by Sonia’s voice ringing through the house, and it startled the two boys so much that Eddie found himself bumping his back against the door and Richie stumbled where he was standing, almost toppling over into the hallway. “Eddie-bear, I am heading out to the store to get you your favorite carrot cake! Don’t be in the sun too much and don’t forget sunscreen!” she screamed, slamming the front door and ignoring Richie’s presence entirely, which they both thought was already an improvement.

“You know, she didn’t even say ‘happy birthday’ yet. Her first fucking words to me were to smudge sunscreen. And if I have to eat carrot cake for one more birthday, I will sell my soul to the devil,” said Eddie with a fierce expression that Richie loved so much. _Is there anything I don_ _’_ _t love about him?_

“Don’t fret, Spaghetti. I’ll show you a good time,” said Richie grinning and wiggling his brows, and sprinted towards the bed after pinching Eddie’s stomach.

“Beep beep, Rich.” Eddie rolled his eyes and tried very hard to ignore the lightheaded feeling he got when Richie touched him that close to his crotch. He went into his adjacent bathroom and left the door open while he was washing his face. “So what kind of a good time are you showing me today?”

“Oh, Eds, you have no idea what me and the Losers got in store for you. This is the day full of Spaghetti-time!” said Richie enthusiastically as if announcing a new ride at the carnival, and lied down across the bed folding the arms under his head.

“We better not be going to an Italian restaurant again. I swear, it’s your fucking fault that I hate pasta now,” said Eddie, muffling some of the words as he peaked out from the door with a mouth full of toothpaste.

“Oh, you’re a dirty liar, Kaspbrak. If you hated pasta, you wouldn’t be cooking it for every sleepover we have,” said Richie, propping himself on the elbows to steal a glance at Eddie.

“Touché,” said Eddie, pointing a toothbrush at Richie in the mirror. He spat out and washed off his mouth before grabbing some mouthwash and pushing his cheeks out as he worked the burning substance around his teeth.

“You got some skills, Eds. That makes me wonder, do you have a gag reflex at all?” Eddie’s mouth suddenly opened as he started laughing, the mouthwash spilling onto the shirt before he managed to lean down and spit it out.

“If you want an honest answer, DICK, I think dry swallowing pills for years kind of took care of that,” said Eddie, winking, _FUCKING WINKING ARGHAHSIBDCI,_ at Richie in the mirror. The tall boy felt something scratch at his throat, and something stir in his lower belly.

Eddie was about to close the door when he heard Richie’s protests, “Why are you closing the door?!”

“Because I need to shower and pee, you idiot,” said Eddie snorting.

“Hey, don’t close it! I’ll sing to you while you’re in the shower.” Eddie looked over at his friend on the bed, his voice and eyes leaking desperation and he couldn’t find it within himself to say no.

“Ugh, fine, but you are not sitting on the toilet while I shower. Stay here, you perv!” said Eddie rolling his eyes and pointing a warning finger at Richie.

He observed the lanky boy roll backward off his bed and land awkwardly close to the windowsill, popping up from the floor with a grin on his face. Eddie chuckled and reentered the bathroom, leaving it a bit open. As he felt hot water cascade on his body, he couldn’t help but think that it would’ve been a lot more fun if Richie was singing right next to him.

 

 

 

Eddie was lying in the sun, his skin warming at the buzzing effects of alcohol that was quickly spreading through his bloodstream and the comforting feeling of the Spring sun on his skin. Richie drove him to the quarry in his grey beat-up 1980s BMW that Wentworth gave to his son when he bought himself a brand new Mercedes. Richie loved his car and surprisingly took very good care of it, and even bought rose air fresheners so Eddie wouldn’t die from second-hand smoke that permanently engraved itself in the walls of the vehicle.

Richie’s head was now on Eddie’s knees, his wet curls sprawled on the small boy’s thigh, covering it almost entirely. They were drunk, happy, and content. Eddie turned his head to the side to look at Beverly on Bill’s shoulders fighting Stan that was on Mike’s, their laugh echoing throughout the woods. Ben was sitting at the edge of the water with a notebook in his lap, smiling fondly at the scene and writing his poetry. The view of it all made Eddie’s heart ache from love and affection, but also the creeping thought of the fact that they will all get separated in a couple of months. Eddie wanted to bottle this moment up forever, and keep it in his pocket everywhere he went; _there is no way this much love could be contained by anything though_.

Eddie couldn’t help but feel a little bolder than usual, whether from the elation of his birthday, or the liquor, but his fingers found black strands of hair on his thighs, and he twirled them around, spreading some of them to cover more space. Richie slowly opened his eyes and looked at Eddie whose eyes were closed, and the small boy was facing the sun, the warmth radiating off of him not only from the heat but from the feel of Richie against him. Richie melted at Eddie’s soft touch on his hair and turned his head to kiss Eddie’s thigh with barely any pressure, but he let it linger longer than a friend would, and then he turned sideways to lie down closer to Eddie’s crotch. Eddie reached his other hand to stroke Richie’s hair in its entirety now, smiling at the burning sensation Richie’s lips left on him. He was sure at that very moment that his whole world revolved around Richie, and he’s a damn fool for ever thinking otherwise.

 

 

 

The rest of the day was spent with an unnatural amount of laughter and overall giddiness. Eddie was very simple to please – anything that got him out of the house and away from his mother was good enough. The Losers took him to the arcade where he generally spent time with Richie, but he was better than most at the games because he was fiercely competitive, and when everyone started to get frustrated from being unable to beat his score, they left to get some food. They went to Eddie’s favorite diner because, as Eddie put it, he was a ‘fast food whore’, and spent most of the time drunkenly throwing around french fries and drinking more milkshakes than should be humanly possible. Richie finished his chocolate milkshake so quickly that he started attacking Eddie’s cup, fighting with the smaller boy for the straw. Eddie was laughing too hard from Richie’s tackling but was unwilling to give up his straw. Richie eventually decided to just stick the second one in, and they drank from the same cup, their faces almost touching, cheeks blushing, and the rest of the Losers’ eyes connecting in an unspoken agreement of how nauseatingly adorable the two looked.

After getting overly satiated, they headed off to Bev’s apartment since she was the only one who didn’t live with parents and kept on drinking and playing board games that were soon sprawled on the entire floor of the living room. At some point, Richie made a snarky remark at Stan who then tackled him, and they were brawling around the floor so much that both eventually injured their backs with the playing figures, and received a screaming scolding from Eddie for being forced to be the nurse “on my own goddamn birthday, dipshit!”

Later when everyone got hungry again, they decided not to head out the door because of how intoxicated they were and figured they’d try to make some pizza. _How hard can it be?_ The entire kitchen and the floor leading up to the bathroom were covered in flour, and everyone was laughing so hard at Mike’s attempt at throwing the dough in the air that they were pretty sure they’d have six packs by the end of the night. The dough then landed on Richie’s head, and everyone collectively agreed that it’s pretty much a biohazard now and needs to be thrown out in a sealed bag, The tall boy then made a mock clutch at his heart from being “physically wounded by your words!” and fell down to the floor with a thud, earning a roar of laughter so loud that the cars outside of Bev’s apartment were beeping at them.

 

 

  

The whole day was like a dream, and Eddie was now back in his room at 3 am, wishing so much that the day didn’t have to end, even though it technically did. He didn’t want to leave Bev’s apartment, but it was tiny, and there were only so many sleeping surfaces in that studio. His stomach felt almost as full as his heart, and he was glad he didn't have to eat the disgusting carrot cake his mother brought; she fell asleep clutching the half-eaten box on the couch. He was smiling giddily when he felt Richie lift his red polo a little to blow a raspberry on his belly button, and he hit the tall boy on the head, shoving him away from himself. _If he keeps touching my stomach so much, I_ _’_ _ll have a permanent boner for the rest of my miserable existence._

“Eds, your stomach is so soft, do you use looootion?” asked Richie with what he thought was his alluring voice, his speech slurred from a dozen beers they had throughout the day.

“I do, idiot, you know this,” giggled Eddie, turning his head to look at Richie who was lying on his bed like a _goddamn starfish._

“But, do you need to? I mean, I thought your skin was just soft by nature.”

“I don’t HAVE to do it, but I want to. I hate chapped anything.”

Richie turned to face Eddie now, folding his palms under the cheek. “I have chapped everything.”

“I know, dipshit,” said Eddie grinning. He reached out a hand to brush a strand of hair off Richie’s face, exposing his very smug expression.

“I like when you touch my hair,” said Richie in a soft voice that Eddie never heard around anyone else.

“Well, your hair isn’t chapped, so- “ Richie softly smacked Eddie on the arm but then let it linger there, his fingers falling to stroke Eddie’s forearm softly.

“You barely have any hair on your arms, how is that even possible? They’re so soft,” said Richie, his voice pleasantly trailing off and his eyes following the pattern that his fingers were making. 

“You have enough hair for the both of us,” said Eddie with a smile, letting the ‘us’ stay in the air for a while.

Richie snorted and let his fingers go even lower, now tracing patterns on Eddie’s hand.

“I like when you hold my hand,” said Eddie quietly and Richie lifted his eyes to look at the small boy. “You know, when I’m scared or when we’re at the quarry. It’s, um, it’s nice.” Eddie let his eyes fall to their connected hands.

“It is. I like holding your hands. They’re soft, and you always squeeze back – you don’t let them just dangle in mine. I like that,” said Richie softly, looking at Eddie intensely to make him lift his eyes to his.

“Is this weird? I mean, is it normal for us to say this to each other?” asked Eddie, now lifting his gaze to match Richie’s worried expression.

“It’s just the two of us. No one else knows. I think it’s fine,” said Richie and linked his fingers with Eddie’s, bringing their joined hands to his mouth and kissing Eddie’s knuckles. Us.

“’Chee,” said Eddie as quiet as breath but audible enough for the tall boy’s proximity, realizing too late that he let the pet name slip out. He called Richie like that once in his wet dream, and it must’ve stuck with him subconsciously.

Richie froze up with Eddie’s knuckles on his lips, his eyes wide as saucers. He felt a thousand shivers run through his body and he only now noticed how fast his heart was beating. Richie felt like his chest was going to explode – he didn’t know what exactly made such an impression, but something about that nickname sounded like a secret – as an intimate thing just between him and Eddie. Richie couldn’t explain what he felt even if he tried but one thing was clear – he wants to hear that word leave Eddie’s mouth every day of his life.

Somehow in a daze of his short-circuiting brain, Eddie shuffled closer to Richie and let his nose brush against the tall boy’s. He felt Richie’s warm shaky breath against his face and could see Richie’s wide chocolate candy eyes boring into his very soul. He decided that this will be his birthday present from Richie (besides the comics and mixtapes that he already received) – he will get this kiss from him even the tall boy won’t respond. His need for Richie’s lips was too great, and his hazy mind was not helping at all.

Eddie kissed the corner of Richie’s mouth softly, squeezing the other boy’s hand reassuringly. He let some seconds pass before he kissed the other side. Richie wasn’t exactly rigid, but he had a shocked expression on his face as if it was the first time he realized he might want to kiss someone. Richie’s eyes nervously jumped between Eddie’s eyes and Eddie’s lips, glistening with something like _adoration?_ No, _love._ Eddie felt it by the desperate look in Richie’s eyes, by the soft expression that spread through him as Eddie softly touched his lips, barely pressing at all. Richie felt his entire world crashing down, and he didn’t know what to do – couldn’t believe it was real.

“Eddie…” it was barely a whisper from Richie’s mouth, the softness and desperation of it enveloping both of them, making their chests throb and their heads hurt.

The small boy almost never heard Richie call him by his actual name – he was always joking around, and Eddie's full name was reserved for seriousness. Maybe that’s how Eddie knew that what was happening wasn’t one-sided. _Surely, he_ _’_ _d pull away by now if he hated it, yeah?_ Eddie leaned in once more but this time was met with Richie’s pressing lips, and Eddie’s eyes fluttered open in surprise, growing wider than they’ve ever been. They both looked at each other for a second, taking in the weight of what just happened before shutting their eyes in the same moment and scooting closer.

Richie’s mouth started moving, and Eddie’s lips followed, the soft connection creating what felt like sparks. They were now lying flush next to each other, their clasped hands trapped between their practically merged bodies. Richie pulled on Eddie’s bottom lip a bit, forcing him to move a little more freely. Eddie decided to go all in instead and pushed his tongue between Richie’s lips, forcing a quiet whimper to escape Richie’s mouth. They were now full-on making out. _Oh. God. Oh. God. I_ _’_ _m making out with Eddie. I_ _’_ _m making out with Eddie. I_ _’_ _m making out with Eddie._

Eddie’s mouth was soft and warm, and his lips were full, and he didn’t drool, and Richie was convinced he died and gone off to heaven. Somehow, Eddie's lips felt so familiar, so perfectly fitted with his. They felt like home. Their kiss was soft because they were too shocked to go too far from there, their mouths now fully open, exploring each other, tasting what felt like every crevice of each other’s mouths. Eddie tugged on Richie’s bottom lip with his teeth playfully and softly giggled at how much Richie’s body started shaking at that.

“Eds, can we..? C-can we pause for a sec?” asked Richie quietly, feeling like his face was burning at an ungodly temperature. 

“Who would’ve thought that you’d be stuttering,” said Eddie playfully, smirking at Richie’s disheveled appearance.

He let his eyes trace Richie’s face and take all of him in. Richie lied down on his back again, closing his eyes and rubbing his face with the other hand, the left one still holding Eddie’s. Eddie couldn’t see him too clearly, but the moonlight from the window was showing him just enough. Something about the image was painfully familiar, but the memory was so distant that even the dull ache in his chest didn't help him decipher it. He released Richie’s hand, and Richie got scared for a moment, opening his eyes until he felt Eddie’s shaky fingertips trace his jawline, and he thought he was going to faint, shutting them again.

“Eddie-“

“Shhh. Don’t talk. Just, just enjoy this. Let’s just enjoy this,” whispered Eddie, and they did. They just let themselves enjoy it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS A FLUFF VOMIT
> 
> hope this didn't succcc


	13. September, 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie plan Beverly's upcoming birthday.

Eddie stepped into Richie’s apartment and was immediately engulfed in the scent of pine and cigarettes. The smell of Richie’s apartment reminded Eddie so much of Derry that it made his chest sting – and he wasn’t sure if the pain was nostalgia or some kind of a dark nervousness that he always associated with that town. He clutched both of his hands on the cup of latte, trying to warm the shiver that went through him from the intimacy of the whole situation. Something about the whole atmosphere felt like being transported in time; transported into Richie’s childhood bedroom, their legs tangled and Richie puffing smoke while lying on his back on the bed.

The small man shook his head to break himself out of the reverie and noticed that Richie was scratching the back of his neck standing by an already closed front door. One of his hands sat on his hip where his shirt rode up halfway on his stomach, probably from scratching that occurred while Eddie was daydreaming. Eddie couldn’t help but look him over one more time – there was something about the vulnerable image of sleepy Richie that accessed part of his brain that was specially reserved just for the love of that man. Eddie smiled at him nervously, and Richie visibly relaxed. Eddie noticed a sweating Frappuccino cup standing on the small table by the front door untouched.

“Well, um… Since you’re already here, I might as well go dump my face in ice cold water to wake up. Do you mind putting the drink in the freezer? I don’t want it to melt,” said Richie nervously before going towards the bathroom at a much faster pace than necessary. _How the fuck am I supposed to know where his kitchen is?_

Eddie noticed that Richie walked around barefoot ( _I guess that didn_ _’_ _t change_ ), and took his sneakers off by the entrance before rounding the corner of the tall man’s apartment to look for the kitchen. A warm smile spread across his face when he saw how empty the small black kitchen was, Eddie’s outline reflected in the glossy surfaces of the drawers and counters. It seemed very clean, but he was sure that the reason wasn’t for Richie’s cleanliness, but more because he was sure, the man never cooked a day in his life. He put his latte on one of the counters and put his red backpack next to it and opened the freezer door to place the drink inside. He wasn’t sure if he should be worried that there was nothing in there: frozen food wasn’t what he’d like to see Richie eat, but complete lack of it wasn’t that great either. Eddie furrowed his brows and opened the fridge door and what he saw made him lean his head on that same door, closing his eyes in exasperation. The only things in Richie’s fridge were beer and a huge chocolate cake that was eaten half way and looked like it’s been there for weeks. _How is that man literally still alive?!_

“You want some?”

Eddie straightened and looked at Richie with a ‘are you fucking kidding me’ look. “Do you mean beer or the spoiled cake? Because I’d like both at 6 in the morning, thank you,” said Eddie, dripping sarcasm.

“Hee-ha-ha. You’re as funny as ever, Eds-“

“Don’t call me that-“

“I just wanted to make sure you have something to eat, and you took my concern and just threw it off the roof to shatter and die,” said Richie grinning, now standing much closer to Eddie than should be acceptable at their level of communication.

Richie pushed the door closed and leaned his back on it, crossing the arms and waiting for Eddie to say something. “How are you this fucking dramatic this early in the morning? Shouldn’t you be exhausted or something?” said Eddie, mirroring Richie's posture.

“When I said I’m pouring ice cold water on my face, I meant exactly that. I think it worked really well, but not as sobering as your ass in those jeans, Spaghetti. Didn’t help mini-Tozier either,” said Richie, pointing his hand at a small tent in his pants before swiveling around and opening the freezer to get his drink.

Eddie thought he never blushed that hard in his entire life. “Shut the fuck up, it’s too early for his,” said Eddie with a strained voice and made his way into the living room before Richie saw how flustered he got. Richie blatantly stared at his ass the whole way.

Eddie sat down on the couch that had its back to a large window, crossing his legs under him and putting a huge white fluffy pillow in his lap. He started twirling the fabric of the pillow when he saw Richie enter the room with his backpack on his shoulder, his half-empty drink in hand and a pack of cigarettes in another barely clutching Eddie’s latte. He dumped the backpack on the space next to Eddie and winked, reaching out a hand that was holding his drink. Eddie pried the other man’s fingers open and felt an almost painful tingling at the touch, taking the cup with both hands and saying ‘thanks’ quietly. Richie’s cheeks tinted pink a bit, and he made his way around the couch to sit on its back, propping the window open in the process. Eddie turned around to see what he was doing and saw Richie put a cigarette in his mouth, and light it, the movements rehearsed and familiar. Eddie put the pillow down and turned to sit on the couch sideways, his legs tugged to his chest, his head leaning on the back of the sofa.

He was looking at Richie smoking a cigarette, and his whole body felt as if it was on fire at how much he realized he still _loved_ him, still _wanted_ him. Eddie really tried to deny it ever since he saw Richie on their first day at work but being with him alone, in his apartment, the smell of smoke and coffee engulfing his senses, he couldn’t even fight it anymore. He sipped on his latte, looking over Richie’s features and softly smiling, and he felt his eyes water a bit at both the desire to kiss him, and the realization that nothing about them is simple enough for that to happen. Richie must have felt him staring because he turned around and was about to say something snarky when he saw Eddie’s large glistening eyes and his soft smile, _and fucking shit, there is nothing else I ever want to look at._ Richie smiled back and felt his eyes water a bit from something that had nothing to do with the smoke. _I lost him. I let this happen. How could I let this happen?_

“What are you drinking?” asked Richie, trying to pull himself out of the painful thoughts of his past.

“Vanilla latte,” said Eddie with something like a playful tone that made Richie shiver a bit.

The tall man chuckled. “Of course you are.”

Eddie raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

“The only other caffeine drink I could associate with you would be black tea with milk,” said Richie with a large smile plastered on his face.

“Right, because I’m small and gay and like sugar.”

“Eds, you say it as if those are bad things,” said Richie, his heart jumping a little at the word ‘gay’.

Eddie was about to argue but when he saw the loving way Richie was looking at him the words died in his throat, and he thought for the first time that maybe, _just maybe_ , there is nothing wrong with him.

 

 

 

They were now sitting on Richie’s rug, their backs propped up on the couch they were sitting on earlier. Eddie brought everything that a person can possibly need for a scrapbook ( _A SCRAPBOOK!)_ and Richie almost fainted at how cute he thought the small man was. He looked at him in adoration as he assembled the different colored paper, glue, some stickers, beads, and glitter glue. _GLITTER GLUE ARE YOU KIDDING ME._ Richie thought he was going to burst any second from how much he wanted to kiss Eddie’s entire face. His plan on taking things slow with Eddie wasn’t working that well.

“So, look. She really likes sunflowers, so I was thinking we could buy a bunch and decorate the whole apartment with it, and especially stick them in the drawers that she actually opens. Also, I’m going to cook her favorite meal, including breakfast and lunch and we will take her to that fair downtown in the morning so she can ride a Ferris wheel and play those water gun games that she loves,” said Eddie really fast while drawing a Ferris wheel on the page and writing 11am next to it.

“What?” Eddie asked when he saw the dumbfounded expression on Richie’s face. His eyes were enlarged, and his mouth was half open with the adorable smile that made Eddie feel like he was 17 again.

“Um… I just… You’re the most adorable human on Earth, I’m sure,” said Richie, his cheeks getting a little pink. 

“Would you just focus? We don’t have that much time, and I’m not doing this alone,” said Eddie, his face radiating dangerous heat that he tried to hide by rubbing his forehead in fake annoyance.

“Whatever you say, my good sir,” said Richie in a British accent and Eddie couldn’t help but think that those idiotic voices were getting noticeably better.

 

 

 

After about 2 hours of non-stop bickering with Eddie screaming ‘I was her roommate for years, I know what she likes!’ and Richie screaming in response ‘Why the fuck did you ask for my help then?’ they were covered in glitter glue, and there were pieces of cut up paper everywhere, and both of their arms were full of Sharpie marks that they left on each other from an occasional fight. They were now lying on the floor, the tops of their heads touching as Richie puffed on a cigarette and Eddie was desperately trying to remove Sharpie marks with his saliva to no avail. Both of their stomachs growled in unison, and they started laughing uncontrollably.

“Okay, we’re definitely getting something to eat now,” said Richie.

“See, I would cook you breakfast, but your fridge looks empty enough for a dead rat to be disinterested,” said Eddie rolling his eyes, and Richie could swear he heard it happen. 

“Jeez, Eds, way to compliment my humble abode,” said Richie and took another drag. “I never really eat here, me and my band mates usually meet up to play in cafes and bars – we usually get free food and drinks.”

“That’s nice and all, but you need to have something at home. What if you get sick or have people over, or somebody stays for a sleepover or something?” asked Eddie, listing those things as he was bending fingers, not wanting to say 'if someone stays in your bed'.

“Well, I do have a very cute visitor today, so I see your point. But I promise you, my cooking wouldn’t be impressive, so it’s a lost cause really,” said Richie taking a drag for the last time before extinguishing the butt on the ashtray. 

Richie quickly turned around on his stomach and propped himself on the elbows to hover above Eddie’s face. The small man looked up to meet his eyes to Richie’s and felt himself physically melt at how shiny those chocolate candy eyes were.

“You have glitter on your nose,” said Richie, his voice dripping with a warmth that Eddie hasn’t heard in years.

“So do you. You have it all over your face,” said Eddie giggling.

“We couldn’t get gayer if we tried,” said Richie before kissing Eddie’s forehead quickly, the reminiscing scent of Eddie’s strawberry shampoo lingering around his nostrils. 

Somehow hearing those words leave Richie’s mouth made Eddie harshly sit up. Yes, Eddie knew they kissed before and there was a lot of unresolved tension between them but he never heard Richie refer to himself as ‘gay’. It's one thing to think that Richie was attracted to him at least on _some_ level but hearing him admit that he was  _gay?_ All of that was way too confusing to process, so Eddie decided to leave that conversation for another day. He looked at Richie walking around and picking up trash before making his way to the kitchen to throw it out.

As Richie dumped the contents in the large trash can under the sink, he froze midway as he realized what he said.  _What just happened?_ It's not that Richie was dumb enough to reject the possibility of liking boys - it's just that he never really liked another boy besides Eddie. Richie was officially having an identity crisis in the middle of his kitchen. He knew he liked Eddie since freshman year of high school, probably even before then, but he thought it was just Eddie – his Eds, his beautiful, attractive, caring best friend. But hearing that sentence replay in his head was slightly mind-blowing – it’s as if everything finally aligned. Maybe it wasn't just Eddie.  _Maybe that's who I am. Not just in my head but...who I_ really  _am._

Richie stepped into the living room and saw Eddie put his scrapbooking materials in the backpack, bending over the couch to fit it all in with his boxers poking out of the top of his jeans and his ass perky and fit and _perfect. Yup. Gay_ _as a rainbow flag._ Richie clapped both hands on his cheeks and rubbed his face viciously. Eddie jumped at the sound and turned around with a furrowed expression, oblivious to the effect he was having on Richie.

“You know, I had pajama pants just like these when I was younger. I mean, we probably all had. We were such nerds,” Eddie snorted, and when Richie looked at him all confused he pointed a glue gun at Richie’s pajama bottoms that barely reached 2/3 of his legs.

_Fuck. Fuck, shit, fuck, shit. These aren_ _’_ _t mine._ “Y-yeah, we probably all had matching ones at some point,” said Richie, his voice squeaking a bit and he turned around to go change before he embarrassed himself any further, or Eddie connected the dots.

 

  

 

Eddie hit Richie’s arm with a box of cereal and threw it in the cart, giving the tall man an angry expression. They ended up at the grocery store of all places when Richie announced in the café that he will feed himself with chocolate croissants for the rest of eternity. Eddie looked at him with a terrified expression and forced the man to go shopping with him.

“Why couldn’t we just go straight here from my place? We spent more in that café than we will here,” said Richie, jumping from one foot to the other as Eddie was choosing some granola bars for him.

“First, you’re not broke so stop being a drama queen, and I didn’t ask you to pay for me. Second, I am tired of seeing you eat fucking factory made shit or not eat anything. And third, nobody ever goes to the grocery store hungry – that’s literally rule number one,” said Eddie with an angry expression on his face, flailing his arms around. _Cute, cute, cute!_

“Did Mrs. K tell you that?” asked Richie, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yes, actually. And that’s probably the only thing she was ever right about. Oh, and staying away from you, of course,” said Eddie, smirking at Richie as he rounded up to go to another aisle.

“Ha-ha. How is she doing anyway? I bet no one is pounding her bones as good as I did,” said Richie, making an air-thrusting move.

“Fucking hell, do you ever shut up?” said Eddie rolling his eyes and biting his cheek to avoid laughing.

Richie reached out and pulled his cheek out to make his teeth remove it. “You’ll eat your whole mouth attempting not to laugh at my jokes. You’re not fooling anyone, Spaghetti.”

Eddie felt himself blush and turned to look at what they were standing next to. _Pasta. Of-fucking-course_. He grabbed a large box of some Italian-made spaghetti and tossed them into the cart before winking at Richie, who LITERALLY fell to the floor and pretended to be dead. Eddie laughed out loud and clasped a hand to his mouth as he doubled over and tried to leave the scene while pushing a cart like a hunchback. He grabbed some tomato sauce on the way down the aisle, laughing hysterically in his hand all the way.

Richie caught up to him a couple of minutes later as he was putting some whole milk in the cart, making a mental note to go grocery shopping for himself later. The tall man jumped in front of Eddie as he was reaching for yogurt, 3 humongous bags of candy in his arms.

“You are not getting that,” said Eddie with a serious tone and he almost laughed at how quickly Richie’s face fell.

“But mooooooooom,” whined Richie so loud that a couple of people standing next to them looked at the scene. _Must be quite the fucking view._ Eddie chuckled.

“Jesus, will you behave? You can have one of the bags. You eat enough sugar, Richie. I’ll get you some sweet yogurt,” said Eddie as he took two of the family size candy bags and threw them on top of some milk cartons before shoving Richie’s chest forward to gain access to the produce.

“Spaghetti, you are a bad customer. Who will be cleaning all this crap you left there?” said Richie, covering his mouth with one palm in mock horror which made Eddie roll his eyes and chuckle.

“Shut up, dipshit. I don’t have time to go back to the candy aisle and we both know if you go there, you will never get out.”

“You know me so well, Eds,” said Richie throwing the one bag in and pointing two finger guns at Eddie.

Eddie snorted and reached out to pick 3 different flavors of yogurt before placing them neatly next to the carton of milk.

“I don’t like yogurt,” said Richie reaching out into the cart to take it out. Eddie slapped his hand off, and Richie made a mock horrified expression again, pretending to look offended.

“Have you ever even tried it?” asked Eddie, pushing the cart forward before Richie could throw the yogurt away.

“No, but that doesn’t mean I’d like it,” said Richie, hopping next to Eddie and rubbing the front of his palm that stung. _What an adorable small menace._

“Well, then shut up, and don’t shit on yogurt until you tried it. It’s good for your digestion, and you definitely need help there,” said Eddie, looking at Richie from head to toe with a judging look. 

“You wound me, Spaghetti-man. My skinny body is adored by many, you included. And sure, I’ll try yogurt. But only for you, cutie,” said Richie and smiled warmly at Eddie whose cheeks were a bit pink, corners of his mouth jumpy.

 

 

And Eddie will never forget how he opened his favorite strawberry yogurt in Richie’s kitchen later and handed the tall man a vanilla flavor. He’ll never forget how exaggerated Richie’s gagging was (even if it wasn’t staged) and how Eddie fell on his knees laughing as Richie spit the contents of his mouth in the sink before rubbing his tongue under the faucet forcefully. Eddie never felt so happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love yogurt almost as much as I love these gay bois


	14. April - May, 1995

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie deal with their parents. Prom night begins.
> 
> *SUBSTANCE ABUSE*  
> *EMOTIONAL ABUSE*  
> *HOMOPHOBIC LANGUAGE*

Richie drove his car in the direction of his house, slamming the sneaker on the gas harder than necessary. He woke up in Eddie’s arms that morning and couldn’t even begin to process what happened the night before. There was a nauseating turmoil inside of him, and he felt overwhelmed with the force of his thoughts swirling. _What does this change? Will it change anything? Does he want this to change anything? Do I?_ Too much happened in too little time. He wanted Eddie’s attention for years, so why now that he had it, it terrified him?

Eddie wanted to move to New York and start his life over - his mother was driving him insane, and he wanted to get away from her. Richie didn’t want to go to college at all; hell, he didn’t know what he was doing with his life. Eddie spoke of moving away since everything with It happened, and Richie just listened, smiling and nodding. It pained him to know they’ll be far from each other, but he had too much unfinished business at home that prevented him from taking a leap like most of his friends.

He was coming closer to his house now, an image of Eddie’s soft curls sprawled on a pillow entering his mind so suddenly that he almost crashed into his own mailbox. Richie backed out and drove into space before the garage, parking in a perfectly straight line next to the adjacent Mercedes. He slammed the door of his BMW and threw a finished cigarette on the ground, not even bothering to stomp it out. The tall boy ran up the porch of his unnecessarily humongous house and swung the door open - it was never closed.

His dad’s car was in the driveway, so he expected to see him when he came through the entrance to the kitchen. Wentworth was standing by the coffee machine, sipping his black coffee through a straw because it ruined his precious teeth, and didn’t even lift his eyes to look at his son. Richie came up to the fridge without a ‘hello’ and pulled out a carton of non-fat milk since Maggie refused to buy anything that could cause her to gain weight, then reached to the drawer above the sink to pull out some Cocoa Puffs.

Richie reached out for a bowl when he was interrupted by his father’s rough voice. “Anything new?” Wentworth was reading a newspaper and didn’t even lift his eyes to look at the tall boy.

“What do you want, Wentworth?” Richie stopped calling his parents by whatever normality society instilled a while ago.

“Don’t sass me. I asked if there was anything I need to know?” The man put down his newspaper on the counter and met Richie’s eyes, leaning on one of the hands to support himself.

“Why, is there something you heard?” asked Richie defiantly with a full mouth of cereal. 

“You know our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Port?” Richie nodded. “Their son turned up last night with glitter all over his face, can you believe that bullshit? Damn queers all over the world but now in Derry?” Wentworth shook his head before taking a sip from the mug.

Richie’s spoon stopped midway, his face paling faster than should be humanly possible. He knew his dad didn’t know about his infatuation with Eddie; Richie didn’t even know about it, not really, until last night. There was something else there as if he FELT that there was something his son was hiding. Richie didn’t even know if there was anything to hide yet – he had too much to figure out before voicing it out.

“Why are you telling me this?” asked Richie, forcing the words out. He put the bowl on the counter, suddenly losing appetite.

“I just thought you might want to know. You and Jake were friends as children, but you lost contact. Apparently, it’s a good thing you did,” said Wentworth, putting the now empty mug in the sink.

Richie stepped further from his father, all of a sudden disgusted with his presence. “I wouldn’t stop talking to him if I knew. I didn’t stop being friends with him because he’s not straight,” said Richie, his voice cold as ice.

Before his dad had a chance to speak, Richie’s mother stumbled into the kitchen from the living room opening, a bottle of Jack Daniels smashing on the white marble floor and spluttering the brown liquid everywhere. The tall boy’s head whipped around, and the image of his mother clutching the counter with a greenish face and shaking arms seemed worse than any horror film he’s ever watched. At that moment, he wished for nothing more than for the damn clown to come back and take him to the sewers, so that he wouldn’t have to deal with the reality of what he just witnessed.

The thing is, Richie didn’t know his mother was an alcoholic until that morning. The stack of whiskeys in their bar was always associated with Wentworth, so he just assumed that his father was the one with a problem. He didn’t hang around his house often enough to see something like this happen, and he most certainly never woke up this early. The reality begged to differ: his mother, his sweet, beautiful mother who was adored by the whole town and hated by many women by how good she looked, a woman who gave him at least an inkling of affection, was an alcoholic.

Richie’s brain was finding it very hard to process everything that was unraveling before his eyes. He didn’t notice his father make his way around an island, but he saw him trying to prop Maggie up to stand. She swung her arm back slurring ‘don’t touch me’ and almost hit Wentworth before he threw his arms up and said in a deadly calm voice ‘I’m going to work’.

Richie stood in his freezing kitchen that was getting colder by the second, the stench of whiskey was suddenly making him sick. But he quickly realized that the booze didn’t smell nearly as bad as his mother – she reeked as if she hasn’t showered for days and the smell on her was a mix of too many liquors – Richie couldn’t decipher them even if he tried.

The tall boy was torn from his numbness when he saw his mom slide on the fridge door to the floor and ran to hold her up, knowing that she was about to sit in a pile of shattered glass. He threw one of her arms on his shoulder and made the way to the guest bedroom, fully aware that he’d be unable to carry his mother up the stairs to the master. His socks soaked in the brown liquor and he might’ve stepped into a piece of glass, but he felt numb enough not to feel or care. Richie half-dragged, half-carried Maggie Tozier to the bathroom, temporarily placing her on the toilet to fill a bathtub. His head was throbbing with pain that had nothing to do with the alcohol he had the night before, and his knees felt weak from reasons that had nothing to do with his mother’s weight.

Richie had to hold Maggie’s head because it kept falling down as he was getting the right temperature. As he waited for the tub to fill, he unbuttoned his mother’s dress and slid it off her shoulders leaving her in her undergarments. He didn’t really know what he was doing, but her skin was tinted green, and he’s seen someone do it to their overly drunk friend once, so he just went with it. When the tub filled enough for Maggie’s legs to be covered, he turned the faucet off and lifted his mother off the toilet to put her in, feet closer to where the water was still dripping down. He sat by Maggie for a while as she cried, and cried, and cried, and he sobbed by her side, knowing that nothing will ever be the same again.

 

  

 

Eddie’s head should be throbbing, but he opened his eyes and felt better than he thought he deserved. He was laying on his side of the bed; one arm draped over a large stuffed animal Richie won him once at a fair that replaced the warm missing body of his best friend. Eddie furrowed his brows and tried to remember why Richie wasn’t here and also why he thought he should be lying next to him. His features straightened with insane speed and he quickly sat up, throwing a palm over his mouth. _We kissed. We made out. I made out with Richie. My Richie._

He instantly jumped up from the bed as if it burned him and ran into the bathroom to throw some cold water over his face. He lifted his head to look at himself in the mirror and found that he was pale with fear, although he couldn’t distinguish what he was afraid of. Eddie remembered that he didn’t shower when he got home last night and decided to give that a priority, hoping that it will clear his head a bit.

After letting the hot water run over his body and changing into a pair of running shorts and a random t-shirt from an arcade, he made his way downstairs to have some breakfast. His mother already laid out two boiled eggs and whatever filthy frozen waffles she liked to throw into the toaster, with a sugar-free maple syrup standing in the front. Eddie never got any orange juice or anything that normal people ate – that was reserved for his mother and guests. He wasn’t even allowed cereal – Sonia thought that if he wouldn’t die from various infections, diabetes would surely get him.

“Good morning, Eddie-bear.” _Speak of the devil._

“Good morning, Ma,” said Eddie reluctantly. 

“Did you drink your vitamins, Eddie?” he didn’t even notice the stack of bottles in front of the plate when he sat down.

“I just came into the kitchen,” the bite in his voice was atomic.

“Don’t speak to me like that. Are you having mood swings again? Do you want me to call that psychiatrist two towns over? She has great expertise,” said Sonia, pulling out the almost finished carrot cake from the fridge, her large frame taking up half the room.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” asked Eddie with a mouth full of the hardboiled egg.

Sonia swiveled around, and Eddie thought she looked more like a Godzilla than a woman. “Edward! Don’t you use that tone of voice on me. I think you definitely need to see that woman. She’ll figure out what’s in that head of yours.”

Eddie swallowed the egg and looked his mother dead in the eye. “Why don’t YOU go see her? Maybe she’ll figure out what’s wrong with your head.”

“How dare you?!” his mother smashed her hand on the kitchen counter sending the box of cake tumbling to the ground. Eddie barely flinched, used to his mother’s outbursts. She, on the other hand, wasn’t used to her son talking back. “I will have you know that just because you are now 18 years old does NOT mean that you get to speak to me like I’m one of your faggot friends!” Her voice has reached an unpleasant screech at the derogatory word.

Eddie’s patience suddenly snapped. It was one thing for his mom to talk trash about him, but his friends? The only people who loved and cared about him? He was having none of it.

“You disgust me. I’m surprised you even know I turned 18, you never even said happy birthday!” Eddie now stood up from the chair and was getting closer to his mother. “My friends are the best people in this shithole of a town, and I’m pretty sure they are the best people in the world, and you will not use language like that to speak about them.” Eddie was pointing a finger at his mother, their heights even and their demeanor switched 180. “You are the worst parent I could ever imagine. You know that I didn’t even know what emotional abuse was until one of the psychology classes in school? Yeah, psychology, MA! We talked about people who are trapped in toxic relationships because their partners use their own weaknesses against them, making them feel unworthy, unwanted, and fragile. The other person would always make them feel as if they can’t survive the outside world without them. Guess what? I can survive without you and your constant fucking nagging and your shit bought vitamins and your hardboiled eggs that somehow still smell better than you! I will not, for one second, ever even think of saying ‘hello’ to you again. I am going to graduate high school, stay here until I can move into the dorms and I promise never to see you again. Find another victim, I’m done with this shit,” said Eddie, vile almost visible spilling out of his mouth, his face contorted in hatred he didn’t know he was even capable of feeling.

His mother looked stunned – not even as if she was slapped, she just looked frozen, the muscles in her face not moving. Eddie stepped back and smiled, happy to hear silence from the mouth of a woman that could never shut up around him. He stepped over the box of the carrot cake and exited his house, closing the door softly and feeling some sort of freedom for the first time in his life. _Just three more months. Three more._ He took his bike from the side of the house and decided to see Beverly, not ready to face the boy he kissed just yet.

 

  

 

_Why is prom so fucking lame?_ Eddie stood in front of the mirror in his room, desperately trying to make the white tight fitting blazer feel at least remotely comfortable. He hated clothes that hugged his frame too tight and he didn’t like accentuating his already womanly frame. _Boys shouldn_ _’_ _t have waists like that._ He sighed loudly and made his way to the desk to pick up the white bow tie before tying it around his black button-up carefully. Bev insisted he wore this outfit when she saw it in the window of the tux shop, and she squealed so much that he decided to give in.

He remembered that day so clearly because Richie was supposed to go with him, but when he came up to the tall boy’s house, he didn’t open the front door and didn’t answer the pebbles thrown in his window. Eddie figured there would only be a handful of reasons Richie wouldn’t want to see him and decided to let it go and just call him later to see if he was okay. Richie didn’t pick up the phone that day.

Eddie came over to the window and looked out to the street perpendicular to theirs, and he could see Richie’s house in the far distance – its large grey roof standing out from the array of cheap constructions. They didn’t hang out alone since Eddie’s birthday, and he couldn’t help but feel it was because of the kiss. All the Losers agreed to go to prom together since the only dating couple were Bill and Stan, and even they were very casual about it. Everyone got very busy with exams the last month of school, and waiting for acceptance letters, and getting their affairs in order before leaving that no one really had time to hang out much and Eddie wanted to think those were the reasons.

But if Losers had things to do and canceled, most of them would reschedule and meet up later in the week, or come over to one another’s houses. Richie, on the other hand, distanced himself from everyone: his jokes became forced and strained, he wasn’t nearly as physical with Eddie as he was before, and he missed out on many of their gatherings. And he didn’t come over to Eddie’s house anymore, he didn’t call him, and didn’t go to the movies with him which was their thing.

Eddie realized that the kiss was probably very confusing – jeez, he couldn’t even understand what was going on in his head half the time, but he thought they’d figure it out together. Eddie would never force it on Richie if he didn’t want it – he loved his tall best friend and wanted to be with him, but if Richie wasn’t ready for it, his friendship meant a lot more to Eddie, and he could wait. He’d wait forever.

Things were bound to change someday because Eddie was moving away and Richie was staying in Derry, and long distance is sometimes even hard for friends, let alone lovers. Eddie woke up every morning replaying the night of his 18th birthday in his mind, his chest tightening and tears forming, but he didn’t press. He didn’t bring it up, and neither did Richie, so he just let it go and be a memory he could daydream about.

Eddie stood in front of the full height mirror again, fixing all the buttons of his white suit, putting the bowtie in place and making sure his shoes were a glistening black. He swiveled around and made sure his ass was showing just enough, and the seams were in the right place. Eddie couldn’t help but feel that he looked _really good actually_ , and he smiled at himself in the mirror. He got a little closer and checked on his hair that he put just the tiniest bit of mousse in, keeping the long waves in check. Eddie moisturized his face well, and it looked healthy and glowy. And not that he’d ever tell anyone, but he stole his mother’s old mascara and made his lashes twice longer, his brown eyes shining and now accentuated by luscious black strands that made him look like an anime character.

Very pleased with himself and checking that he smelled like strawberries, Eddie grabbed his chapstick and mints ( _a guy can dream)_ , he ran down the stairs straight to the front door, ignoring his mother’s death stare from the couch. He stood on his front lawn, hands in the pockets of his pants, looking out into the side of the road that had a dead end on his street and lead into the woods. Everything about today felt like it was going to be monumental, even though he wasn’t exactly excited to see teenagers grind against each other in the middle of the gym. But they were planning on going to Mike’s farm afterward and that part of the night made Eddie’s skin tingle with excitement.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the screeching sound of tires on the stop sign to the left of his house, and he saw a grey BMW accelerate quickly to stop straight in front of him. Richie exited the driver’s side and rounded the car, throwing a cigarette on the concrete and walking in very long strands towards Eddie. The small boy didn’t move and stood at the same spot, a ‘deer in the headlights’ expression on his face. Richie stopped right in front of him, so close that Eddie had to throw his head back to look at him. _Too close, too close, too close for friends._

“Hi,” said Richie, his voice strained and his eyes were glistening with something Eddie didn’t understand. They didn’t smile.

“Hi, ‘Chee,” said Eddie, letting the nickname spill out from close contact. They weren’t touching, but they were close enough for Eddie to smell the aftershave and the scent of smoke coming out of Richie’s mouth.

Richie closed his eyes, and his face scrunched up in pain as if the nickname stung him. He opened them a couple of seconds later, and there were tears there, his eyes so full of them that Eddie was surprised they didn’t pour out right away. Eddie reached out his hand to place on his best friend’s cheek, but Richie grabbed Eddie’s hand before he could touch him and kept holding it as he held it bent between them.

“Eds, you look…” Richie’s voice trailed off and Eddie couldn’t understand anything, couldn’t process information standing so close to Richie.

“You have the same suit,” said Eddie softly, a smile tugging at his lips. _You look handsome. You look like a dream._

“Um, yeah… Bev picked it out. She just brought it to me, I couldn’t go to the store,” Richie paused, searching Eddie’s face for a reaction. Eddie just looked at him with some kind of adoration in his eyes and Richie thought he would explode from how deep and expressive Eddie’s eyes were. “I’m sorry,” said Richie, not elaborating on what he was sorry for.

“Why are you picking me up? I thought I was going with Bill and Stan.” Eddie’s hand burned in Richie’s.

“I called them and said I’ll do it. I wanted to see you. We’ll pick up Bev on the way there,” said Richie, looking all over Eddie’s face again. _God, he_ _’_ _s so beautiful, it_ _’_ _s not fair._

“Okay,” said Eddie softly, melting from Richie’s presence, too drunk on being alone with him to care about anything really.

Richie leaned down to kiss Eddie’s forehead closing his eyes and felt the small boy clutch his hand. When he leaned back the expression on Eddie’s face was pained, his eyes teary. Eddie didn’t say a word, so they just made their way to the car, each too occupied by their own thoughts to voice them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't hate me? 
> 
> wanted to write a little about their parents and more will come in later chapters  
> I'm trying to go with the book canon where Richie is not exactly comfortable being physical with boys in public but I tied it more to the situation with his parents
> 
> plz comment your thoughts <3
> 
> P.S. I hate Sonia, can you tell?


	15. September, 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beverly celebrates her 23rd birthday.
> 
> *MENTIONS OF SELF-HARM*

New York City was a sight to behold in the fall, and Eddie Kaspbrak wasn’t wasting his time in taking it all in. He made his way down the street from his last Sunday performance, his worn out black Nike sneakers sliding smoothly on the dirty pavement. Eddie usually took the subway but something about that afternoon seemed different and made his chest flutter with excitement. “Cats” finally had their opening weekend, and he was now finished with the second one, giddy with the success of the show and the progress he was making in his craft. Dancing wasn’t something Eddie wanted to do all his life but he wanted to enjoy it while he could, until his body decides to betray him after all and he’ll be forced into a regular job. _I_ _’_ _ll figure it out by then._

His grey sweatpants were making a pleasant shuffle as he heard _Tainted Love_ come in his Walkman headphones and strutted down the street, a couple of middle-aged women giving him odd glances. Eddie stuck his tongue out at them, feeling happy and free for the first time in years. He couldn’t quite put the finger on what might be the reason, but he didn’t really care. He lived in New York, it was pleasantly chilly, his work was going great, and he has friends to come home to. _What could be better?_

Turns out, his Sunday afternoon _could_ in fact get better. He jumped up to the front door of his apartment and slowly slid the key in, all the while pushing the headphones on his neck, _Easy Lover_ creating a sweet vibration where it hit his throat. Eddie mouthed the lyrics and pushed the door open with his legs, trying to open his red duffel bag in the process to put the Walkman in. As he walked in, shoving the door closed with the foot of his sneaker, he lifted his eyes to be met with smiling Bill and Stanley, both extending their arms to greet him. Eddie let the bag fall on the floor, running up to slam between both of them and hugging them as much as he could, considering his short arms barely wrapped around their waists.

Both men hugged him tight enough to hurt and their warm breath on his neck made him feel as if he reunited with long-lost family. They all finally pulled away from what felt like decades, and Eddie wiped his eyes with a sleeve of his white “Cats” sweatshirt, giggling at the other two mirroring his actions. They haven’t seen each other in so long, it felt like the last time he saw their faces was at high school graduation. In reality, it was when they visited almost a year ago, and it was short enough to feel as if it never happened.

“Hey, E-Eddie,” said Bill with a small smile, his cheeks a little red from their interaction. 

Eddie felt himself relax instantly from hearing his voice. A fleeting thought of his crush on Bill from 6th grade crossed his mind and he welcomed it, letting the reminiscing sensations wash over him as he looked at his friend. Bill could’ve been his first official crush, but Eddie’s love for him was no more than brotherly. _Nothing compared to_ _…_ Bill looked as healthy as always but had noticeable darkness under his eyes, and Eddie assumed the small publishing house he works at must be overwhelming him. He was wearing a dark green cashmere sweater which the small boy thought a little warm for the weather, but he instantly remembered that Bill always felt cold everywhere. His dark blue jeans accentuated the color of his eyes, the still glistening tears making them look deeper and speak a thousand words. 

“Hey, Billy,” said Eddie, shoving Bill’s chest with warm playfulness. 

He let his eyes wander to Stan and couldn’t help but smile wider still. Stanley looked overwhelmed too but not enough to be worried about, even though something about his nervous expression was making Eddie uncomfortable. The tall boy looked as good as ever in his khaki pants and a grey sweater that was hiding a baby blue button up. His dirty blond curls sat orderly on his head, a little longer than Eddie was used to seeing. Eddie noticed that Stan locked both of his arms behind himself as soon as they stopped hugging and figured he just didn’t want physical contact – Stanley was like that sometimes and he learned to be respectful of it. Eddie noticed Bill look at his boyfriend with a warm expression as if asking him to relax and Stan’s arms dropped to his sides and the small boy saw his muscles lose the collected tension. That small interaction made Eddie feel uneasy.

“Hi,” said Stanley, his voice a little strained but friendly and welcoming, his hazel eyes filled with an expression that Eddie couldn’t pick up on. He decided not to fret over that weird behavior and smiled warmly at Stan, letting his eyes speak for themselves. _I love you, and I_ _’_ _m here for you._

“Sooo, you finally reunited with the lovers?” asked Bev, making her way from the kitchen with a tray full of snacks and a bottle of raspberry lemonade Eddie loved so much.

“Yeah, yeah we did. Is it just me or are they more mature than we are all of a sudden?” asked Eddie, hoping to see if he was the only one who noticed their strange behavior.

“They’re working men now, Kaspbrak. Be respectful. We have to match their demeanor,” said Bev with light sarcasm, her face showing more in the lines of _what the fuck._

“Stop it, we’re just t-tired. That train ride took all of our energy. W-we literally arrived ten minutes before you arrived, E-eddie,” said Bill with that warm smile of his, one that could barely mask any other emotions behind it. _Why is he stuttering again?_

“Do you guys want us to give you some space to be alone?” Eddie noticed how Stan visibly flinched at the word. “We could hang out in mine or Bev’s while you nap.”

“No, it’s okay, Eddie. We want to catch up,” said Stan which made everyone whip their heads in his direction. That was the first time he spoke an actual sentence since he stepped through the door.

“O-okay. Do you mind if I make a phone call real quick? There’s someone I need to talk to,” asked Eddie awkwardly.

“Of course, E-eddie. It’s y-your home,” said Bill with that nervous smile again, putting one hand between Stan’s shoulder blades to force him to relax again. Stanley just looked nervously at his boyfriend before letting his shoulders visibly drop.

Eddie smiled at both of them and scrunched up his eyebrows as he passed by Bev, who mirrored his _what the fuck_ face perfectly. She instantly changed her expression to lead the two men to the couch as Eddie disappeared into his bedroom. He plopped face first onto his mattress and let himself just lay there for a minute. Their group never really had any awkwardness between them, why was everything suddenly so weird? _Could it be the time? The distance?_ Eddie couldn’t figure anything out and he needed someone to lighten up the atmosphere. He picked up the phone that he had on his nightstand and dialed Richie’s number. The speed at which the tall man picked up worried him a little.

“Spaghetti! To what do I owe the pleasure?” said Richie with a smile that Eddie could literally _hear._

“How did you even get to your apartment so fast? You live further than me,” said Eddie, lying down on his pillow and twirling the white cord around his finger.

“Awh, Eds, I appreciate your worry, but why are you calling if you didn’t expect me to pick up?” asked Richie now with a _smirk_ that Eddie could hear.

“Shut up, you idiot. I’m just trying to logically put two and two together.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just admit that you wanted to hear my beautiful voice.”

“Your voice is raspy, and I saw you less than an hour ago.” _I love his raspy voice._

“You know what, I thought we could have a pleasant conversation, and here you are, continuously insulting me. Now, why would I want to keep talking to you?”

“Because I have something interesting to offer.” _Why do I sound so seductive?!_

Richie must have felt the change in his tone because the conversation instantly flipped. “What are you wearing?”

Eddie snorted. “You saw me leave, dipshit.” He felt his cheeks burn.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me what I’m wearing?” asked Richie, his voice dropping a couple of octaves. _Holy shit._

“Keep it in your pants, Trashmouth. That’s not why I’m calling.”

“Well, then this conversation is definitely over.” Eddie heard a phone fall down on what he assumed was the kitchen counter since he heard the fridge open, and it made him wonder if Richie forgot how to disconnect the cordless phone. He thought of hanging up until he heard Richie scream on top of his lungs ‘WHY WOULDN’T HE TAKE A HINT, I’M JUST TRYING TO GET LAID, IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK?!’ and Eddie felt himself shake from stifled giggles that managed to escape anyway. _What a dork._

Richie picked up the phone, pretending to be abashed. “Sorry, Eds, I thought you’d hang up by now.”

“And miss your tantrum? Never,” said Eddie grinning wide like an idiot.

“You gonna tell me what you’re calling about, cutie?” asked Richie and Eddie felt a color fill his cheeks.

“Ew, I’d rather you call me Eds,” he heard Richie start to cackle and added, “no, I take it back, just call me by my normal name!”

“No can do, Spaghetti. Nickname it is,” said Richie obviously very pleased with himself.

“Alright, I’m gonna go now-“

“NO! I’m sorry, sorry. What were you gonna say?” asked Richie, his voice full of pleading.

“Bill and Stan are here,” said Eddie quickly, not really knowing what to expect.

The line stayed silent for a couple of seconds, and Eddie started to worry that Richie passed out or forgot to disconnect the phone again. Before he had a chance to ask, Richie spoke again.

“That’s great. I hope you guys have fun.” It physically hurt Eddie to hear that much disappointment in the tall man’s voice.

“Hey, I called because I want you to come, you know. They’ll be here for a whole week, including Bev’s birthday, so I think you should come.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What?”

“That they’ll be here for Bev’s birthday. We spent so long planning it, and you didn’t think to mention that two people I haven’t spoken to in years will be staying with you?” said Richie with more frustration than anger.

“I’m sorry, Rich. I didn’t think about that part.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not ready to see them. I… I don’t think they’ll forgive me,” said Richie, his voice breaking a little bit.

“I think you’re wrong, but I won’t push you. You know this place is always open to you, so come whenever you want,” said Eddie with as much warmth as he could muster to make Richie change his mind. The other man answered in a couple of seconds.

“I’ll think about it, Spaghetti. Have fun.”

“Please come, Rich.”

“We’ll see, Eds. Bye.” Eddie put a phone over his heart, letting the dial tone fill the room for a while.

 

 

 

The next couple of days were incredible as far as Eddie could tell. Bev’s birthday was on Wednesday and he had a lot of preparations to do when they’re going to get back to the apartment that night. The four of them have been spending the whole Tuesday going around all sorts of bakeries and cafes, sampling an array of pastries to the point of barely walking and Eddie getting seriously concerned if he’s going to fit in his cat costume for the performance. Stan and Bill were still acting a lot more collected than usual and they continued to have those odd interactions when Bill had to force Stan out of some sort of a trance, during which Eddie and Bev kept exchanging glances, unsure whether they should even bring that up. They decided to wait to let them elaborate later if they want to.

Eddie was still thoroughly upset that Richie hasn’t shown up to see their friends, but he definitely expected that with how strained he sounded on the phone. He still hasn’t even called, and Eddie didn’t want to bother him with his nagging ‘come see me’, so he gave the tall man the space he needed and tried to enjoy spending time with his best friends. As they were coming up to the apartment on the stairs, Bill’s arm around Stan’s waist both of them holding an ice cream and giggling at the story Bev was excitedly telling them, Eddie couldn’t find it within himself to be upset about anything. 

Now that it was about 11 pm and Bev was STILL awake, Eddie was beginning to panic. He wasn’t an early sleeper but he certainly never stayed up past 2 am and he was staring to get cranky from the possibility of having to stay up even longer. It was Beverly’s first birthday at their apartment, and he wanted to make it special and memorable, especially with Bill and Stan there. Today has been an emotional rollercoaster for Bev: she talked to them about the attack that she & Eddie survived, and how she didn’t hear back from Ben anymore and all her relationships were falling apart. He barely ever saw his best friend cry, and he realized she must have been keeping a lot of things bottled in as to not upset him and that made him even more motivated to give her the best celebration possible.

He was standing with his back propped on the kitchen counter, sipping a strong green tea that he was hoping would keep him up when he heard a soft knock on the front door and bolted towards it faster than the speed of light, almost knocking the mug off the counter. Eddie knew who it was before he opened the door. Richie was standing in front of him, dark jean jacket over some nerdy bright yellow t-shirt and dark jeans to match, everything fitting him perfectly and elegantly. He had a bit of a stubble on his face that Eddie has _never_ seen before and it made him want to touch it, lick it, _you name it._ His hair was a disheveled mess but it was clean and luscious and the image made Eddie’s heart ache. He was wearing his new black glasses again that he usually took off for performances and Eddie loved them, even if he thought the old ones were better.

Richie stepped straight into the doorway and propped Eddie’s chin up, forcing the small man to crane his neck a bit, his long lashes fluttering up in the direction of Richie’s face.

“Eds. Cute as always,” said Richie, his voice dripping thick honey that made Eddie shiver in his white long sleeved cotton shirt. He was wearing some of his red baggy dancing pants and white fuzzy socks, and yes, maybe he could be associated with something cute, but _it shouldn’t come out of Richie’s mouth because it makes me feel things?!_

“Beep beep, Rich. Just come in,” Eddie reluctantly moved away from Richie and his chocolate eyes, closing the door softly behind him but not before he caught a funny expression on the tall man’s face.

The rest of the group hasn’t noticed the commotion yet, all sitting outside on the fire escape and chatting away, Bev already on her second pack of the day. Richie stood in the entrance with his hands in both pockets of the jacket, fidgeting with something inside. He looked and felt uncomfortable, the feeling of dread spreading through him as he realized the possibility of seeing his friends again. Eddie noticed his discomfort and softly grabbed him by the elbow, smiling reassuringly.

“Come on,” said Eddie and led the way to the fire escape, smoothly maneuvering Richie’s barely responsive body.

Eddie crawled out of the window first, taking place closer to the left railing and crossing his legs in anticipation of Richie’s entrance. The tall boy had to almost bend in half, but he managed to finally get out there and put himself next to Eddie, their knees touching which for the first time felt more comforting than distracting. Richie caught Eddie’s reassuring eye before turning to face the rest of the group who were still recovering from their interrupted conversation.

Bill and Stan both had a mildly shocked expression, brown-haired boy’s arm draped over the other’s shoulder as they snuggled under a large brown throw from the living room. Bev was situated closer to the staircase but nearer Richie, and she recovered much more quickly, extinguishing a cigarette into the ashtray before throwing herself to hug the tall man. 

“Easy, Marsh, you’re breaking my bones,” said Richie nervously but not without a smile from the affection he was getting.

“Oh, come on, you love my bone-crushing hugs, Tozier,” she plopped back down on her spot on a large sofa pillow in nothing but jean shorts and a white t-shirt, lighting a new cigarette in the process. _Jeez, this girl never gets cold._

Richie smiled nervously again before taking a breath and speaking up. “Big Bill. Stan the Man.” His head made a directing motion towards the two men. He waited a couple of seconds before he saw something unexpected. 

Stan’s face split into a genuine grin, and he even laughed a bit, which surprised both Eddie and Bev since they weren’t able to get that kind of a reaction from him that whole time. Bill smiled wide in return, looking at his boyfriend first and then at Richie, a bit of sadness in his eyes but mostly something else. Something that looked like love.

“Stan the Man, huh? I haven’t heard that one in a while,” said Stan, still grinning like an idiot.

“Oh, well, you know me, Staniel, I couldn’t have greeted you otherwise,” said Richie now grinning too and almost combusting from happiness when he heard Stan laugh at the second nickname.

Bill looked at his boyfriend lovingly again before addressing Richie. “It’s nice to see you, Trashmouth. Didn’t think you’d be hanging out with these two,” said Bill, pointing his head at wide-eyed Bev and Eddie.

“Fate brings lovers together, Billiam,” said Richie and the whole group laughed at the nickname, a warm feeling settling in everyone’s chest and the only thing missing in that moment were two more important people.

 

 

 

 

“Richie, shut the fuck up, you’ll wake Bev,” hissed Eddie to the tall man who dropped a carton of eggs and started dramatically apologizing.

Eddie continued to whisk his fantastic mix for waffles, rolling his eyes and clenching his jaw to avoid smacking Richie across the apartment. He asked him to take the eggs out of the fridge and that already ended in a disaster. Thankfully, Eddie was smart enough to buy three cartons, knowing he’ll be feeding five gluttonous people.

“I’m sorry, Eds. I’ll clean up,” whispered Richie while crouching on the floor and picking up eggshells and carrying the dripping mess towards the trashcan under the sink, smudging everything on the counters.

“Oh my God! Why didn’t you just put everything back in the carton and then threw it out at once?!” Eddie was practically fuming from the restraint in his voice.

Richie turned around after dumping the egg shells, all messy hair, pillow lines on his face, ‘deer in the headlights’ expression and Eddie felt his knees giving out.

“Ugh, come here,” said Eddie quietly, taking both Richie’s hands and pushing them under the water. He massaged all of the yolks out of the tall man’s hands and wrists, and maybe he took longer than needed but _WHO CARES._

Richie was staring at his face with an awestruck expression as Eddie wiped his hands with a kitchen towel. He lifted his face to meet Richie’s brown eyes that were somehow lighter than usual, but the warmth in them was almost uncomfortable. They slept in Eddie’s bed again, and he woke up with Richie’s wrist draped around his waist, not pressed together but close enough for him to feel the other man’s body heat that was close to suffocating. He thought of Richie’s lop sided smile when he woke up and it made something inside him feel lonely and sad. Eddie felt himself flush a little and stepped away before taking out a second carton of eggs and placing it next to the bowl.

“No, God, don’t touch that. Just go and keep whisking,” ordered Eddie when he saw Richie leaning down to pick up more eggshells.

“You can just call me Richie. No need for formalities,” said Richie smirking and Eddie smacked his arm lightly and pointed a small finger in the direction of the whisk.

Richie made a salute jumping motion that made Eddie snort, and went to stand in front of the bowl. He dipped a finger in the mixture to taste it and Eddie thought his eyes would roll into a different dimension. _He_ _’_ _s going to have a stomachache and I_ _’_ _m not helping him with the pain._ Eddie let his eyes rake over Richie’s long body and he felt his throat dry up a little. Of course he had to only wear his green plaid boxer shorts and a t-shirt from last night. _Of course._ He had one bare foot propped up on top of the other, his hip leaning sideways on the counter as he whisked the concoction with much more force than necessary. Richie’s arms got tired at one point and he looked at Eddie to take a break, and noticed the small man looking at him and both of their cheeks were flaming hot as they turned away from each other smiling.

 

 

 

 

Eddie thought he did a pretty good job at organizing Beverly’s birthday and he felt very proud of what he and Richie managed to accomplish before anyone even stirred awake. Bev was always a late and heavy sleeper so he wasn’t bothered with her until about 11am, but he made sure to close her door in case Richie dropped things (and he did). Since their kitchen and living room didn’t have a separation, they had to be extra quiet because of Stan and Bill’s snoring on the couch. Richie offered to put whipped cream on their faces and was almost thrown backwards with the force at which Eddie slapped his chest.

They woke up after that and helped them decorate the rest of the apartment, sticking dozens of sunflowers all over the place. By the time Bev woke up, their home looked like a botanical garden and she started crying almost instantly, running up to hug all of them at once. They ate a ridiculous amount of waffles with berries, bananas (at which Richie dramatically gagged), syrup and an illegal amount of whipped cream. They sat on the fire escape, because, naturally, Bev wanted to smoke right away, and who were they to say no to her. Eddie inspected her bruises for the last time that morning, the yellowing color on her stomach almost gone and her headaches were very rare now which meant she could enjoy her day to the fullest.

She received calls from both Ben and Mike, both promising to visit, and Bev knew that it was all empty words. Ben was working in a very serious architectural firm in California where he held a position too high for his age, but he had a promising career and Bev didn’t insist. Mike was doing much better, but he had a lot of responsibilities and couldn’t yet leave for more than a day because there was no one he could leave to tend to the estate. Beverly missed them like crazy but they were all adults, and she tried to understand. She just hoped they could all reunite again someday.

The group did go to the fair downtown after all and Eddie offered to sit alone on the Ferris wheel because there was no way he’d let a birthday girl have a singles seat. And it’s not like he and Richie were attached at the hip. _Yeah, not at all._

Everyone played the dumbest carnival games and all the toys won were given to Beverly, who could barely hold it all by the time they all went to the subway. When they reached the apartment, Eddie instantly opened two bottles of red wine, and started pouring it around until he felt Bill’s hand on his shoulder, asking him if he had any beer, and saying that Stanley won’t be drinking. Eddie scrunched his eyebrows together but nodded and pointed to the fridge, and unsettling feeling stuck in his throat.

After about an hour of charades where almost everyone was using sunflowers as props until Eddie started screeching that they were ‘destroying beautiful things of nature’ and making a mess, they now sat on the rug in the living room; the coffee table pulled back to give them the space to stretch out. Bill and Stan had their backs to the couch with Bill’s arms draped over Stan’s shoulder again, and they had a throw on their legs. Bev was laying sideways on an armchair and sketching something as _The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air_ played on TV, creating a soft glow on everyone’s faces. Eddie had a large pillow propped under his chin as he lay on his stomach facing the show, his crossed legs going up and down. Richie was seemingly in the middle of the rug but much closer to Eddie than was actually needed, occasionally stealing glances at the small boy and smiling wide when Eddie turned around and caught him staring.

And all was well until Stanley started to fidget and decided to get up, making his way to the bathroom. An expression on Bill’s face was unreadable at first, then turned into one of fear Eddie only saw on him once in his life, and then Bill, their strong kind lovely Bill started sobbing. Everyone instantly froze, not really knowing what to do, not knowing how to act. The last time Bill cried was in the sewers and it was more out of adrenaline than anything. This was heart-clenching, soul-ripping sobbing full of so much pain that the tall man found it hard to breathe. Bev recovered first and jumped up from the chair to hug Bill’s shaking form. Eddie and Richie decided to sit cross-legged in front of their friends, not really knowing which boundaries were okay to cross. Bill was crying so hard that it made their heads hurt and they all exchanged painful glances.

Then Stan came out of the bathroom in his white hoodie and upon seeing the state Bill was in calmly sat down on the edge of the couch and stared off into the distance for some time. After about a minute, he scooched closer to Bill while remaining on the couch, his legs pressed against his boyfriend’s shoulder. Bill didn’t look up but wrapped an arm around his calf and laid a temple on the side of his knee, his tears now just silently falling, and the shaking slowly subsiding. Stanley took a moment to compose himself before rolling up the sleeves of his white hoodie and extending both arms palms up in the direction of Richie and Eddie.

Eddie felt all air go out of him and he _heard_ Richie’s body stiffen next to his. There, on Stan’s pale bare wrists were two symmetrical scars that seemed to just start healing, the color still pink and tissue poking out a bit. Bev was staring at Stan’s wrists as if they were the most terrifying object in existence, and she felt tears rolling down her right cheek unwillingly. Bill’s face remained unreadable, and he stayed silent, rubbing small circles into Stanley’s calf.

“I tried to kill myself two months ago,” said Stanley, his voice even and rehearsed, as if he actually stood in front of the mirror in that bathroom and made himself say it before coming here. Nobody moved, their eyes still transfixed with Stan’s forearms.

“Bill found me in the bathtub. I wasn’t planning on doing it, so I didn’t lock the door.” Everyone’s eyes suddenly shot towards Bill who had tears running down his face again.

“I go to a psychiatrist now and take anti-depressants. I try not to drink because it disintegrates the medication and I can’t control my own thoughts,” said Stanley, rolling the sleeves back and folding the arms in his lap.

Eddie and Richie’s hands somehow found each other, and they both squeezed tight, now looking at Stanley’s face. Bev was still holding Bill’s hand, her fingers tracing the tall man’s knuckles.

“I can’t explain it even if I wanted to. I don’t know why I did it, but I can’t say I didn’t want to. Everything just felt… Too much.” Stan’s voice was now strained, and Bill turned around to see Stanley holding back tears.

“I know I said it so many times already, but I’m sorry, Bill. I really am. And I’m sorry to all of you and for not saying anything sooner. I was ashamed. I didn’t know how.” Stanley’s face dropped into his hands, and he was silently crying, his shoulders shaking a little.

Eddie jumped up from the rug and hugged Stan from the unoccupied side of the couch. Richie joined in from the other side, climbing up behind Stanley and wrapping his gangly arms around the blond boy’s waist. Bill turned to face his boyfriend and propped his head on Stan’s knee, rubbing his calf soothingly. Bev got on the other side of Stanley’s leg, and everyone cried silently, holding their best friend as if to show him how much they need him.

 

 

 

 

The rest of the night and early morning was spent talking, and everyone fell asleep either on the couch or on the rug, most hands intertwined, not wanting to let go of each other. The next day was all arguing over how to set up Bev’s new flip Nokia that Eddie gave her because she is ‘the best fucking manager in the world’ and he got himself one to avoid getting caught in the alley alone again. They read all the instructions, and when it was on, Bev spent half the afternoon playing the games on it and smoking on the fire escape. Eddie was putting in everyone’s numbers, and Richie insisted on being called ‘Husband <3’ to which Eddie smacked him on the head with the cell phone box and said the only way he’d every marry him would be on a dead drunk trip to Vegas.  

Richie gave Bev a new large sketchbook and professional colored pencils, and she cried from joy and made sure to take it with her everywhere ever since he presented it to her. Stanley gave her a sewing machine which she almost returned because she said it was ‘too much’. Bill gifted Bev a soft mannequin and a lot of fabric for her to put her drawings to life. Eddie winked at both of them as they were giving her the presents last night and they all exchanged mischievous glances. She took the whole Thursday afternoon setting everything up, cutting up some of her clothes, setting up the machine and smoking in her room. She seemed content and so much in her element that nobody bothered her, and they spent the day playing Nintendo, drinking cheap soda and eating chips.

 

 

 

On Saturday morning, Beverly sat with Stan and Bill in the first row for “Cats”, and they laughed and sang along the whole way, clapping standing up for Eddie and Richie at the end of the show. They ate greasy burgers afterward and Eddie complained to everyone that he was gaining weight, to what Richie replayed with ‘you are perfect, Eds’ and Eddie’s face remained red the rest of the afternoon. They went back to the apartment, and Bill got a long phone call which made him go out onto the fire escape for almost an hour. He looked exasperated and excited, and they couldn’t tell what was happening, so the four of them just sat talking on the couch until he was finished.

Bill finally stepped out of the window and took a couple of seconds to compose himself, his eyes shining with excitement. “My book is going to get published. My book, you guys!” he screamed, and everyone was shocked at first but then Stan jumped up from the couch to slam into his boyfriend and started kissing his face which made everyone tear up a little.

Eddie moved from his place between Richie’s legs where he somehow ended up when they sat down on the couch and hugged both men, elated at the feeling of their success. Richie stayed observing the scene a little longer, overwhelmed with the amount of love in the room before he sprinted towards them all, almost knocking everyone off their feet. Beverly jumped up and screamed in delight, hopping up and down the sofa.

“Not that we knew you wrote a novel in the first place, but we are so fucking happy for you, Bill! Drinks, drinks, drinks!” She ran to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of tequila that Eddie gave her as a gift for International Women’s Day (because he’s a dork and wanted her to get laid) but she saved it for a special occasion and was now happy she did so. She peeked out behind a counter to talk to Stanley. “You don’t have to drink, Stanny,” she said with a warm tone and Stan simply nodded and turned his attention back to his boyfriend. 

 

 

 

 

To say that everyone was drunk would be an understatement. Well, mostly it was just Bev, Richie, and Eddie because Bill was slowly sipping on his fourth beer, making sure to stretch it out as to not get drunk, scared of letting Stanley out of his eye. He was still shaken up from what happened months ago and wasn’t risking a celebration to have something happen to his boyfriend. He just stayed cuddled with him on the couch and they exchanged many kisses, laughing their asses off at their friends’ drunk dancing. _Queen_ was playing loud from Eddie’s large silver boom box and the three of them were jumping around the living room, bobbing their heads to the bass. They almost finished a whole bottle of tequila, but thanks to Eddie’s cooking, their stomachs weren’t empty and they could handle much more alcohol than usual.

Eddie jumped on Richie’s back singing _Under Pressure_ loudly in the tall man’s ear, holding onto the other’s jaw for support making Richie giggle. Richie held him under the knees tightly, and Eddie found his legs wrapping around the tall man’s middle, keeping his small flailing body in place. Bev giggled at the scene and stopped dancing when she felt a wave of nausea hit her from bobbing her head too much. She decided to take it easy for a while and grabbed a bottle of water to go smoke on the fire escape. Bill and Stan stood up to follow her, Stan doubled over from laughing at Richie’s awkward dancing with Eddie on his back.

_Radio Ga Ga_ started playing from the boom box, and Richie fell down forward on the floor full of pillows, sending Eddie tumbling sideways, rolling and laughing wholeheartedly. Richie started laughing too and started singing along to the song smoothly, surprisingly hitting all the right notes and lying down on his back like a starfish.

“ _So don't become some background noise; A backdrop for the girls and boys_.” Richie was singing with his eyes closed, reveling in the cloudy feeling in his head and the elation of having most of his friends together.

Eddie laid on his stomach for some time enjoying hearing Richie’s voice until something in his head clicked, and he got up on all fours and started crawling in Richie’s direction slowly to make sure he wasn’t heard. He leaned over the tall man’s face, propping one hand on either side of Richie’s face on the pillow very softly to make sure he doesn’t feel it. He leaned down very close to Richie’s mouth, feeling the hot breath coming out of the other’s mouth as he was singing the lyrics. Eddie started to sing along almost straight into Richie’s lips.

“ _All we hear is radio ga ga; Radio goo goo; Radio ga ga_.”

Richie’s eyes shot open but he didn’t move, seeing how close Eddie’s face was to his. He could smell the salty tequila, and the cherry flavored gum, and the undeniable smell of _Eddie._ His proximity was intoxicating, making him drunk on _Eddie Eddie Eddie._ Richie smiled sheepishly and tugged on the small boy’s white t-shirt, forcing their chests to become flush. He felt Eddie’s uncomfortable position and tugged on a loop in his jeans to make Eddie lay down on top of him. Eddie smirked, all dark eyes and flushed face, and threw a leg between Richie’s, the air suddenly hot and heavy.

Richie’s hands confidently fell on Eddie’s back, but he didn’t move them, letting Eddie take all control. Eddie crossed his hands and leaned on top of them on Richie’s chest, his body feeling like it was in flames from how close they were. Chin propped up on the hands he was looking at Richie, observing his sexy stubble, his black eyelashes and beads of sweat visible on the edge of his hairline. He traced his finger over the tall man’s chin, the shuffling sound of sticking hairs making him _want want want._

Richie looked down into Eddie’s almost black eyes, his long fluttering lashes that screamed a flirtatious _kiss me kiss me_ and his overly long curls sticking to his small forehead. _What an angel._

“Like what you see, Eds?” asked Richie, his voice deep and honest.

“Mmm…” Eddie basically moaned it out, and Richie felt something stir very close to his crotch. One of his hands was now on Eddie’s side rubbing at the poking ribs, and the other tracing lines on his prominent bicep. _Fucking hell._

“Want to get out of here?” asked Richie seductively.

“We’re already at my place, you idiot,” answered Eddie smirking, his fingers tracing the hairs above Richie’s upper lip. Richie caught the small boy’s index finger between his teeth, pushing down gently. He felt Eddie’s dick twitch against his stomach. _Shit._

“Want me to shave?” asked Richie, hoping that would persuade Eddie to kiss him.

“Fuck no,” said Eddie confidently, shimmying higher up Richie’s body, his face now directly above the other’s.

“Do you like it?” Richie was drilling Eddie with his eyes. _There_ _’_ _s some other drilling I_ _’_ _d like to do right now._

“Yeah,” said Eddie in basically a whisper before leaning down a bit to graze his teeth on Richie’s jawline. He felt the tall man’s hard-on on his thigh. _Mmm._

“Eddie…” Richie breathed the word out, desperation leaking from his voice.

Eddie lifted his head a bit and kissed Richie’s cheek, smiling sheepishly. “What?” he asked with playfulness in his voice that made Richie’s skin tingle.

“You need to stop, I’m already hard,” said Richie basically whining. _When did I ever get hard this fast in my life?!_

Eddie leaned down to Richie’s ear, lips touching his lobe. “So am I.” His voice was low and desperate, and quiet enough for only Richie to hear as if it was their secret. Richie felt his whole body shiver and Eddie probably felt it because the damn menace _giggled._

Richie took Eddie’s jaw in one of his hands, pleasantly surprised that he could still fit Eddie’s entire head in his hand. He lined their faces up directly in front of each other, looking intently, pupils blown, desire leaking out of his every pore. “You. Need. To. Stop.” Eddie felt his entire body flush.

“No,” he answered simply and dipped his head a little to bite Richie’s hand gently. He felt a twitch against his thigh again and smiled mischievously.

“You little shit,” said Richie and flipped them over, pressing onto Eddie’s small body.

Richie felt Eddie’s erection against his stomach, so he propped himself higher to grind against the small boy. Eddie moaned out from unexpected friction, and his smile suddenly fell, eyes filling with lust that made Richie’s head spin. Eddie grabbed onto Richie’s bicep, and the other hand clutched onto his chin, directing his face towards him. They were now painfully close, he could smell Richie’s breath on him, and it was intoxicating, he wanted _more more more._ He let his lips brush against Richie’s just enough, just enough to make them both lose control. And they did.

Richie latched onto Eddie for dear life, his lips bruising, the stubble scratching in a burn that hurt and felt good at the same time. He started grinding into him instantly, feverishly, and it was all-consuming, intoxicating. The music muted, they couldn’t hear, couldn’t feel anything but their bodies rubbing together. Eddie grabbed onto the end of Richie’s black long-sleeve, dragging it up his back. _OFF OFF OFF._ Richie separated for one short moment to throw the shirt away and started biting down Eddie’s neck, sucking, licking, biting, his fingers pushing on the hollows of Eddie’s hips and he couldn’t get enough, couldn’t get close enough. It was so hot, too hot, Eddie could barely breathe. Richie’s crotch was pressed against his, he could already feel how wet his boxers were, his whole body moving desperately to catch up with Richie’s rhythm. Richie was squeezing his hips too tight, not tight enough, _more more more._

Eddie grabbed onto the edge of his shirt and started pulling it off, Richie getting the message and quickly pulling it off of him. He leaned back for one second to look at Eddie’s torso, and the neat line of hair leading to the zipper of his light grey jeans, and he felt hot all over, his chest burning, everything _Eddie Eddie Eddie._ He started kissing down his chest, biting the nipple, Eddie grabbing his hair with devilish force and it hurt, but not enough, he wanted more. Richie kissed down his stomach, licking it, biting it, just wanting his mouth to touch everything, everything he missed for years. His teeth grabbed onto the hair below Eddie’s navel, and the small man groaned, pulling on Richie’s overly long hair again, his hips twitching, legs pushing in on Richie’s sides. The tall man is unbuttoning Eddie’s jeans, his hands shaking-

“Oh fuck no!” screamed Beverly, pushing Richie off Eddie, making him stumble backward onto the pillows.

“What the fuck, Bev?!” screamed Eddie, anger, and frustration very evident on his face.

“You two are NOT fucking again drunk just to forget everything afterward. You’ll thank me later,” she pointed a finger at both of them before stomping angrily towards the kitchen, muttering ‘idiots’ under her breath.

Richie sat up, propped up on his palms and looked at Eddie who had a shocked expression on his face. “ _Again?_ _”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> v-day note: if you don't have girlfriend/boyfriend/friend to celebrate the day with, go buy yourself a box of heart shaped chocolates, or a huge heart shaped cake, make yourself an Italian dinner, take a bath if you have one, light some candles, read or watch something you love BECAUSE SELF LOVE COMES FIRST LADIES AND GENTS AND LOVING YOURSELF IS HARD
> 
> and here's the gay mess that I wrote for this day, hope you enjoy <333
> 
> P.S. Bev, why r u such a cOcKbLoCk (jk she's not, she just wants them to finally figure their sheeet out)
> 
> P.P.S. I love Queen.


	16. May, 1995

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Loser's Club attends prom.

The auditorium smelled like sweat, cheap punch, and grandfather’s cologne, and not at all like ‘teen spirit’ that was blaring through the budget speakers, the cliché of it all nauseating and irritating. As much as Richie loved Nirvana, the entire atmosphere was heavy and not in a good way. It didn’t help that his mood was shit and his heart felt like it has stopped working properly. Life was escalating to a deep dark mess for him, and he couldn’t focus or fixate on anything. Richie wished that he could have fun, dance with his friends, kiss Eddie in the middle of the dancefloor but his heart wasn’t in it. It wasn’t in anything.

He watched Eddie and Beverly jump like maniacs, heads bobbing, hands clasped together, so they don’t lose each other in the crowd. The small boy’s face was elated, happy, and Richie’s chest tightened from how much he loved to look at that, how beautiful Eddie looked smiling like this. _I can_ _’_ _t make him happy like that._ Richie had to stay in Derry, deal with the mess that was dumped on his messy head less than 2 months ago, and Eddie had to leave this shithole and find the happiness he deserves.

Richie stood by the table with crackers, both hands in the pockets of his white dress pants, fingers fidgeting with the pack of cigarettes and the lighter in another. He looked to the side to see Bill and Stan giggling next to the punch bowl, probably surprised with how strong it is. Richie couldn’t help but smile warmly, wishing that those smiles stayed on their faces forever.

The song ended, and Eddie and Bev hopped back to where Bill and Stan were standing, their foreheads glistening with sweat, fingers of their hands laced together. Eddie’s blazer was open, and he would probably take it off if he didn’t feel so self-conscious about his body all the time. _I don_ _’_ _t get it. He_ _’_ _s perfect._ Even after he started working out, Richie heard Eddie talk from time to time how his stomach was still too soft, and he didn’t have enough hair, and his chest wasn’t muscular like most men in the movies, and it almost made the tall boy cry. He wanted to give Eddie the world, anything, everything – but he couldn’t, so he just stared.

Eddie must have felt him looking and turned his head, releasing Bev’s hand. He smiled warmly at Richie, his eyes shining with something that made every hair on the tall boy’s body stand up. As their eyes locked, the rest of the world fell around them and the music suddenly muted, leaving the distinct sound of Richie’s breathing harsh and loud. Through the blur of his wet eyes, he saw Eddie make his way to him, walking slowly but confidently, clasping and unclasping his fists from nervousness. Richie felt a hot tear slide down his cheek and turned a little in Eddie’s direction, watching stop very close to him, their shoes almost touching.

Without a word, Eddie brought his hand to the tall boy’s cheek and swiped a tear away with his thumb, letting it linger there for a couple of seconds. Richie looked all over his face, his beautiful smooth face that wasn’t baby-like, just clean and perfect; his ridiculously long eyelashes that fluttered dreamily every time he blinked; the freckles around his nose that were more prominent than usual because of sun exposure; his soft pink lips covered in strawberry chapstick, smooth and full, calling for Richie’s attention.

Richie didn’t move his hands, afraid of falling apart if he let himself touch Eddie. He wanted to explain himself, wanted to understand what was happening between them, wanted to understand how his life came to a sudden halt just weeks ago. He wanted nothing more than grabbing Eddie’s hand right that moment and to sprint out the door, leaving this shit town behind, leaving his parents behind. _Why is nothing ever that easy?_

“’Chee,” said Eddie softly, his voice like smooth syrup.

“Don’t call me that,” answered Richie, his voice so much more broken than he thought it would sound.

“Why?” asked Eddie and Richie heard a challenge in his voice. _Don_ _’_ _t you dare lie to me. Not me._

“I can’t answer that. I… I don’t know.” Richie stared at Eddie, his eyes full of tears that were just frozen there, as if the small boy’s hand stopped them. _Because it makes me feel_ _…_ _Makes me feel something that terrifies me._

“Talk to me. Please,” said Eddie, his eyes filling up, his lower lip trembling slightly which Richie wouldn’t have even noticed if he wasn’t staring all over Eddie’s face.

“What do you want me to say, Eds?”

“What has been going on. Why don’t you want to see me anymore? I just want to know if it’s me or something going on with you because I love you and I just want to understand.” _I love you._

“I can’t. Just… I can’t,” said Richie pulling Eddie’s hand away from his face, his head ringing with the sound of _I love you I love you I love you. I love you too._

Eddie’s face was a painting of pain and torn emotions, and he took a moment before looking off to the side and making his voice a little more even. “We’re leaving to go to Mike’s in about fifteen minutes. I’m going with Ben, so Bev can ride with you,” he said fast before spinning on his heel and walking back to the group quickly.

And just like that, the loud music was back, and he was back in the auditorium. It was overwhelming. Richie let his head drop and turned around in the opposite direction to make his way to the bathroom, thinking he might as well wait there instead of pining like a teenage moron.

Eddie’s turmoil of emotions was overwhelming him, so he fixated on irritation as he got to the group again. The energy shifted instantly, and they all looked in the direction of Richie’s disappearing form, glaring at Eddie afterward.

“What?” asked Eddie with a prominent bite in his voice.

“What?! Edward, you better go after him, whatever you did,” said Bev, her brows furrowed, ice cold blue eyes accentuated by blue eyeshadow – it made Eddie’s skin crawl.

“I did? _I_ did?! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Bev,” said Eddie closing the button on his blazer and crossing his arms.

Beverly took a deep breath, putting the plastic cup on the table next to the bowl of crackers. She put both of her hands on Eddie’s shoulders and looked at him with an intensity that instantly crushed his irritation. Her beautiful short auburn curls seemed to be burning with frustration and Eddie’s face instantly relaxed, shame filling his features.

“You. Have. To. Go.” Bev’s eyes were boring into Eddie’s head and through it to the back door of the gym that was now returning to its closing position. The small boy simply nodded his head and turned around, going after Richie before he got mutilated in front of the punch bowl.

Eddie went into the hallway and heard the door of the closest men’s bathroom close, and he decided to take a couple of moments to compose himself. He & Richie haven’t been alone for so long that it terrified him to think of how uncomfortable their interactions were making him. It’s not that it was awkward, but they weren’t talking much, Richie wasn’t joking, and almost all physical contact was gone. He could care less about the kiss if it meant that he was losing his best friend, and he knew it had to have mattered because they started drifting apart the next day, and everything Eddie feared from ever getting romantic with Richie was coming to life.

He breathed out quickly and started walking towards the bathroom door, the sound of his shoes echoing through the barely lit and empty hallway. Eddie pushed the door open and walked towards the row of dirty white sinks, and noticed Richie’s form sitting under the window. The room smelled like smoke, but he noticed the unfinished cigarette lying on the floor, still burning, small silver string coming out of it.

Eddie’s eyes traveled to Richie who was softly shaking, _crying,_ and he was hugging his knees, his face hidden by the thick mop of black curls lying on top of the forearms. Eddie could almost _hear_ his heart breaking. _Did I do this?_ He was frozen for a couple of seconds before sitting down on his knees in front of Richie, overwhelmed with what was happening. Richie NEVER cried – he hid his feelings very well and liked to be alone when something was bothering him. But he didn’t stop crying when he heard someone come in which means this was serious – something was quite literally pouring out of him.

The small boy took a couple of seconds and then laced his index finger with Richie’s pinky that was sticking out of his hand under the curls. Richie must have known who it was because he tugged his pinky harder, holding onto Eddie for dear life. He continued to cry, his body shaking harder now, the broken noises reaching somewhere so deep into Eddie’s soul that he felt he might fall apart on that disgusting bathroom floor. 

He didn’t know what to do, so he just sat there, waiting for Richie to get it out of him until he could talk. Or not talk. Anything would be okay, as long as he could see him smile again.

A couple of minutes passed, the cigarette has long stopped burning, and the only sounds were Richie’s heavy breathing and something rattling in the pipes. The music was very distant, and there was no noise in the hallway which both boys felt very thankful for. Eddie still sat on his knees, legs folded underneath in a kneeling position, his index finger numb from Richie’s infantile grip. The tall boy was still shaking a little bit, but it seemed like he stopped crying, and was just now recovering from his hysterics.

Richie slowly lifted his head and felt his contacts slipping out, so he used the other hand to fish them out of his eyes. Soft shells fell in his palm, and he threw them on the floor next to the cigarette butt. He looked up at Eddie’s face, only their knees separating them and the small boy’s eyes were large, concerned, his cheeks wet. Without thinking, Richie put both of his hands on Eddie’s cheeks and swiped the thumbs under his eyes, wiping the runny mascara. _I love you I love you I love you._ He wanted to scream, wanted to tell Eddie everything. Instead, he leaned forward and started peppering Eddie’s face with soft kisses, fast and affectionate. The small boy froze for a couple of seconds and then started softly giggling, grabbing onto Richie’s wrists, the sound making the tall boy’s soul sing. Richie leaned his forehead against Eddie’s, his hands cupping the small boy’s jaw.

“Please, don’t cry. I hate it when you cry,” said Richie, smiling softly.

“I didn’t even know I was crying. But I should be one to worry, you know,” said Eddie, his smile small and uncertain.

“I know.”

“Do you want to just sit here for now?”

“No. But you’re gonna have to lead the way to the parking lot because I can’t see shit,” said Richie grinning, pinching both of Eddie’s cheeks and leaning back.

Eddie slapped his hands but smiled wide. “Dick.”

“That is my name after all.”

“Oh god, you’re insufferable,” said Eddie scrambling up from the floor ungracefully. _Go figure._ He extended his hand to the tall boy after shaking the dirt off his suit. “Come on, everyone will be waiting.”

“With you, I’d go anywhere, Spaghetti.”

 

 

 

The drive to Mike’s farm was terrifying, to say the least. Eddie ended up having to drive because Richie couldn’t even see the steering wheel, and needless to say, it didn’t go that great. As much as Eddie always wanted to drive, his mother never so much as allowed him to look at the car too long. ‘You’ll get in a car crash and break your gentle bones, Eddie-bear. You don’t need a license, you’re a small boy, how will you see behind the wheel?’ _Yuck._ Joke’s on her because seats moved in all directions if needed and Eddie could see just fine, if only he figured out how to maneuver a 4,000-pound box of metal.

Richie was giggling like a drugged up child when the car jumped up in the middle of the dark road outside of town, and Eddie screamed bloody murder, thinking that he killed someone. The tall boy managed to convince him that it was just a tree branch, but he wasn’t so sure in reality. _Oh well._

As soon as they got to the driveway of Mike’s farm, Eddie stopped the car and jumped out of the BMW, forgetting to put it in park. Richie started screaming and unbuckled his seatbelt, scrambling to get to the driver’s side. Eddie was running after the moving vehicle and waving his arms maniacally to the group of friends who stood on Mike’s porch and talked animatedly. They all saw panicking Eddie running after the car that had a driver’s side open and put two and two together, but decided to let the destruction unfold. It was prom, after all.

Richie couldn’t get his tall and gangly body to switch seats, so he ended up leaning across the separation to push on the breaks with his left hand, putting the vehicle in park with the other. Eddie was running to the car so fast that he slammed into the driver’s door, hitting his chin on top of it and falling backward. There were roars of laughter coming from the house and Richie was laughing so hard in the car that he had tears streaming out of his eyes, his bony fingers beating the dashboard so hard, it almost sent the airbag flying out. Eddie was lying on the dirty gravel of Mike’s driveway, stones poking into his back, and after a couple of seconds of the initial shock of what happened joined into the laughter, thinking that if something like that didn’t happen that night, it would’ve been rather odd.

After Richie calmed down enough to exit the vehicle, he took the keys out of the ignition and rounded the car to help Eddie up, both still laughing considerably. They took their blazers off and threw them into the driver’s seat, and Eddie slammed the door of the car, trying to inflict revenge on an inanimate object. Richie threw his arm over the small boy’s shoulders and felt Eddie’s fingers on the left side of his waist, and it tickled both his body and heart.

 

 

  

 

Two hours later, and one and a half bottles of Jack Daniel’s empty, The Losers Club was congregated in Mike’s spacious barn, the space lit by nothing but fairy lights that Mike always decorated the place with at the end of the year, since most of their summers were spent either there, or at the quarry. They were all lying on the fluffy carpet of the upstairs area, pillows were thrown all over the place, cards scattered in almost every corner from where Richie decided to ‘make it rain’, soft voice of Paul Anka coming from Mike’s record player. They listened to rock for so long that they decided to take a break and just lay there next to each other, enjoying the last couple of weeks like that – all together, in the same place, at the same time.

Richie was singing along to _Something Happened,_ stroking the curly hair of his favorite small boy whose head was right on Richie’s crotch, his body situated between Richie’s star-fished legs. The compromising position would have given the tall boy a tent at this point, if not for the congregation of all of their friends around, and the altogether warm atmosphere of pure friendship. Bev was sitting in Ben’s lap on a huge brown leather armchair situated at the end of the room. They were far enough from the rest of the group to make out from time to time without anyone noticing, even though they all knew exactly why they weren’t on the carpet with everyone else.

Stan was lying on Bill’s chest, and Bill was softly stroking his back, and Stan mirrored his movements by stroking the brown-haired boy’s stomach. Mike’s head was almost touching Richie’s as he was laying there, hugging the bottle of unfinished whiskey, smiling softly at the melody. They were all lost in the soothing music, heads swimming from the liquor, bodies flushed and everything was just… _good._

Until, of course, the song was over and Richie sat up promptly, screaming ‘TRUTH OR DARE’. Everyone besides Eddie groaned loudly – the small boy was still lost in his daydreaming from the romantic song, eyes closed and Richie’s fingers still working his scalp. Richie put his hand on Eddie’s forehead, leaning his head up a little so he could see his face clearly. The small boy’s eyes fluttered open, and he smiled sheepishly at his best friend, the warm glow of the lights making Richie look dreamy. The tall boy’s stomach did a nauseating flip, and he just kept looking at Eddie, hoping to get enough courage to possibly make out with him again at some point. _Liquid courage my ass._

They were broken out of their thoughts by Michael stumbling straight into Richie, falling down on his side and laughing hysterically from his own clumsiness. Everyone laughed along, and Eddie finally stood up from between Richie’s legs, staggering a little from all the liquor. Richie looked him over quickly, his mouth going surprisingly dry. Eddie’s dress shirt was halfway open, revealing his smooth tan chest that looked impossibly HOT in contrast with the black button-up, sleeves rolled up, white bow tie undone, looking a tad messy, just how Richie liked him. _Fuck._ His teenage hormones really weren’t helping the situation as Eddie started talking to Bill and Stan, putting both of the hands in the pockets of his white dress pants, standing sideways to Richie, and _holy Christ does his ass look good._

“Sweetie, do you need help taking care of that?” asked Bev in a malicious tone, pointing a finger at a tent in Richie’s pants. The tall boy’s face turned crimson, and he rolled over on his stomach, hiding his face and wincing at the pressure on his crotch.

“Awh, don’t worry, Tozier. Your secret is safe with me,” she said quietly in his ear, and he tried to swat her hand away, but she just pinched his right butt cheek and ran in the direction of Eddie, hugging him from behind affectionately.

Just when he started to calm down a little, he felt a heavy weight on his ass, and he lifted his head to turn around and see who felt the need to use him as a stool. Eddie was sitting on top of him, straddling his ass (literally), his small hands gesturing something to Stan animatedly. Richie left out a loud sigh and decided not to move in order to avoid group embarrassment. He really tried to ignore how warm Eddie’s body was, how nice it felt to have both of his legs on either side of him, how good Eddie’s hands felt on his back –

“Alright, Richie, since you’re the one who decided this was absolutely necessary, you go first and choose a person,” said Ben and the tall boy lifted his head, noticing that all of his friends were sitting in a circle, Eddie being the only one who wasn’t on the floor.

“Fine, fine, Haystack. You shall be the first victim then. Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” said Ben without a beat and everyone whipped their heads in his direction. He usually accepted dares from everybody else but never from Richie because Richie’s dares were always either dirty or plain insane.

Richie leaned on his elbows from surprise and switched to his southern belle voice. “Oh my! I am posi _tively_ flustered, good sir! There’s not a thing I shall find for you to do in the sunny Savannah.” Eddie flicked Richie on his head, and the tall boy turned his head grinning. 

“Ugh, fine. I dare you to… To undo Bev’s bra with one hand,” said Richie in his normal voice, winking at Bev.

Beverly’s face reddened a little bit, and Ben looked like a straight up garden tomato. Beverly’s short lacy black dress was very thin so locating the bra should’ve been quite easy. But as Ben was feeling for some kind of a bump in the back, he was coming back with nothing. His fingers kept tracing Beverly’s entire back, confusion evident on his face. Ben was pushing very lightly – he didn’t want to make Bev uncomfortable, but he was not getting how he was so bad at that.

“Um… I can’t… I can’t find it,” said Ben with embarrassment and Richie noticed Beverly’s face redden even more.

“Oh. My. God! Bev, you dirty whore!” screamed Richie, slamming his hand on the carpet.

“Oh, shut up,” said Beverly, taking a pillow from the floor and putting it in front of her chest, burying half of her pink face behind it.

“I don’t understand…” said Stan, looking from Richie to Bev and back. 

“She’s not wearing one,” said Eddie, giggling a little at the end. Everyone’s heads whipped to Bev, and she hid behind the large red pillow.

“Hell yeah!” roared Mike, raising his hand to high five Ben who accepted it with delayed enthusiasm.

“Why are you guys making a big deal out of it? This dress is just too tight, and I hate bras anyway!” Bev’s voice was muffled behind the pillow.

“Bevvy, you know I’m just kidding. No one is forcing you to wear anything you don’t want to. You don’t have to wear anything, honestly,” said Richie and Beverly pulled one of her hands out flipping him off.

Richie laughed full-heartedly. “Ben, your turn.”

Ben sat for a second, thinking something over, his eyes boring into Richie. “Bill, truth or dare?”

“Eh, f-fuck it. Dare,” said Bill and everyone whooped in appreciation.

“Perfect. I dare you to make out with Eddie,” said Ben, his eyes weirdly fixated on Richie.

The tall boy’s body instantly tensed, face falling but before Eddie could notice he stood up from Richie and started crawling to Bill on all fours, giggling the whole way. Bill met him halfway in the same position and they didn’t waste time, angling their faces just enough to get close to each other’s mouths. Their kiss was languid, deep, and _long._ Long enough for Stan and Bev to start whistling, Ben and Mike clapping, and Richie to collect enough anger in him to blow up the entire continent. He was staring at their mouths, transfixed, each movement of their lips sending cold shivers down his body, something similar to bile forming in his throat. As they pulled away, staring sheepishly at each other, Richie sat up, trying to avoid Eddie sitting on top of him again.

The tall boy sat down hugging his knees to make sure that there was no way Eddie could touch him. He was feeling so many things at once that he didn’t understand, things he’s never felt before, and he didn’t know how to handle this sudden mix of _pain and rage._ He noticed Stan tugging at Bill’s sleeve, dramatically pulling at it as if Bill couldn’t separate himself from Eddie. And Richie saw that it was just a game for them, and he knew it was a dare, so why did it bother him so much.

Eddie turned to face him, lips wet and swollen and he pouted exaggeratedly at Richie’s new position. The tall boy merely shrugged, turning to look at anyone but Eddie. The latter furrowed his brows and sat down next to Richie, crossing the legs in front of him.

“Your turn, Bill,” said Ben, smiling smugly at Richie’s sudden change in demeanor.

“Okay. Stan, what d-do you think about the most?”

“You didn’t even ask me truth or dare,” said Stan, smiling at his boyfriend.

“You never c-choose dare,” said Bill, tracing his finger over Stanley’s cheek.

“True. Okay. Um… Honestly? Probably slitting my wrists,” said Stan in a weirdly calm voice, and everyone froze, slowly processing the information in their hazy brain.

Stanley noticed everyone staring and backtracked. “I’m just kidding, jeez. Getting out of this hellhole probably.” Everyone visibly relaxed, breathing out quietly.

Stan turned his head to look at Bill, and his face was pale, eyes full of pain and concern. Stanley gave him a peck on the lips. “Richie, truth or dare?”

“Pfft. Do you know me at all, Stan the Man?”

Stan nodded. “I dare you to strip for Eddie for the whole duration of _Frank Sinatra_ _’_ _s_ _–_ _One for My Baby_.”

Everyone looked at each other in sudden understanding, giddy smirks plastered on their faces. Richie suddenly felt sick; it was like a congregation of ‘who will make Richie more uncomfortable today’. _Dicks._

“I’m not doing that. Fuck it,” he suddenly sprang up and ran down the wooden stairs and out the back door of the barn.

It took Eddie a couple of seconds to recover before he bolted down the stairs, taking two at a time, his thin black socks almost costing him his life. He pushed the back door open and saw Richie walking quickly towards the woods, his curls bouncing.

“Richie!” screamed Eddie, trying to get the tall boy’s attention. “Rich.” Eddie’s voice was soft cotton, barely audible but it stopped the tall boy dead in his tracks.

Richie turned around, his face illuminated by the soft yellow light of lamps on the wall of the barn. He was looking at Eddie, his face full of emotions neither of them understood. The small boy took a couple of steps in his direction and was almost flush with Richie, craning his neck a little to look him in the eye.

“Am I that disgusting to you?”

Richie’s face instantly straightened, and he looked shocked. “What?”

“Is it that disgusting to think about dancing to me that you ran out of there as if someone dumped a pot of hot water over you?” asked Eddie with audible pain in his voice.

Richie blinked a couple of seconds, at a loss for words. “No." 

“No, what?”

“I’m not disgusted by you,” said Richie, inching a little closer to Eddie, their chests almost touching. 

“Then why?”

“Why what?”

“Are you gonna answer my questions with questions? Really?”

“That’s what you’re doing-“

“Fucking hell, Richie-“

“You’re literally not letting me speak-“

“I just want you to be honest with me for once in your life-“

“I’m trying to tell you-“

“What can you possibly say-“

“Why don’t you go ask Bill what’s wrong with me? He seems to hold ALL the answers to your questions,” answered Richie, raising his voice considerably, his face getting serious enough to scare Eddie.

“What?”

Richie took a deep breath. “Now you’re answering my questions with a question.”

“Are you… are you jealous?” asked Eddie, his eyes shining with hope.

“What? No, I’m not… I’m just… He just-“

“Oh my god, you are,” said Eddie, a wide smile spreading across his face.

Richie stood dumbfounded, not really knowing how to respond. It didn’t occur to him until that very moment, but somehow the feelings he experienced in Mike’s barn were probably… jealousy? _Was I jealous? Why was I jealous? It_ _’_ _s not like Eddie is my bo_ _…_ _What?_ Richie’s eyes shot open at his own thought, the b-word circulating around his hazy brain, making his head spin and his stomach feel weak.

“Rich,” started Eddie, putting both of his hands on Richie’s chest and softly turning him to lead him to the outside wall of the barn. “Don’t you know,” he was speaking softly, seductively, his eyes half-lidded and his voice so much lower than usual – it made Richie’s head spin. “I only ever,” Eddie was now pushing him into the wall, his hands lowering to Richie’s hips, and Eddie did this sinful thing when he licked his lower lip which drove Richie _fucking livid,_ but he couldn’t look away. “Want to kiss you,” Eddie’s mouth was so close to his, _GOD SO CLOSE,_ Richie could smell the barely noticeable smell of whiskey under the scent of spearmint and somehow that combination was intoxicating, and the tall boy’s pants suddenly felt tight, and the air wasn’t filled with oxygen anymore, it was all _Eddie Eddie Eddie._

Before he got to process any of it, Eddie put one of his hands on the back of Richie’s neck, pulling his head down to meet his. Their lips connected and the small boy instantly pushed his tongue in, making Richie moan or groan, he didn’t even know. It was so fast, so hot, and so wet, so many sounds escaping both of them, their chests rubbing against each other almost painfully. Eddie bit down on Richie’s lower lip tugging it at him, and the tall boy found himself bending forward, reaching for more. It was a split second until Eddie attacked his mouth again, a grin on his face that Richie could feel, and it made him feel giddy, happy, horny, _what-fucking-ever._ All he wanted was to stay like this forever, their mouths connected, Eddie’s giggles escaping him from time to time, one of his hands pushing on Richie’s hip, the other tugging the bottom of his hair, all hot and heavy, hard to breathe, hard to think kind of kiss. That’s all Richie wanted. He wanted to keep his hands clasping Eddie’s waist forever, in this moment, together, not afraid, separated from reality.

But it was surely too good to be true because Stan ran out the back door and saw Eddie pretty much consuming Richie with his mouth, screaming ‘Eddie is eating Richie with his mouth and it’s not pretty’. The two boys broke apart before the rest of the group made it downstairs, their faces flushed, pant tents visible, both of their eyes as dark as the sky above, but grinning like idiots, eyes never leaving each other. Eddie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and giggled, making Richie finally disconnect with the wooden wall, running a hand through his hair, licking their connected spit from his lips. The tall boy put both of his hands in the pockets of his pants to hide the boner and Eddie did the same, both coming up to Stan with the all-too-happy expressions.

Stan raised his left eyebrow and looked them both over. “I hope you both realize this wasn’t part of the dare." 

“Depends on how you look at it, Staniel. Maybe that’s our version of a lap dance,” said Richie, his smirk barely holding from how earnest his smile was.

“Yeah, whatever. We have a game to finish, so you both better get inside,” said Stanley rolling his eyes and opening the back door.

Eddie and Richie looked at each other before erupting in fits of uncontrollable laughter, leaning on the side of the barn, thinking that they’re the dumbest teenage boys in the world.

 

 

 

 

At some point, and nobody could pinpoint when that occurred, they all ended up on the road in front of the barn, an old rusty barbeque grill in front of them, trying to fry the whatever red meat Mike found in the shed next to the barn. It was definitely fresh, and he wasn’t sure if it was for the butcher in Derry or some store in neighboring towns, but he was too drunk to care, so he just took it. The coals underneath the thin railing were burning carelessly and unevenly, and both Stan and Mike were occasionally falling down on the ground from laughter and the sudden weakness in both of their hands from the attempt to turn the steaks over. Richie and Eddie were doing some interpretation of tribal dancing which was making Bev laugh so much that she threw up some of her liquor, making Ben follow her lead. Richie and Eddie stopped for a second exchanging glances until they started laughing hard enough for the next three counties to hear.

Bill was lying in the grass picking at the grass that touched his fingers, looking over at the sky above him and observing the stillness of the stars, knowing full-well that they were just far enough that he couldn’t see them move, but they did, all the time. He silently wondered if Georgie was up there somewhere, jumping between those stars, enjoying every second. Bill’s mind strayed away from his brother and wandered to the thoughts of his dad who was lying in bed in the hospital after another round of chemo that didn’t seem to be doing any good. He knew he shouldn’t think about it on his prom night and his dad asked him to have fun but _how could_ he? Bill already cried in the middle of their ‘truth or dare’ when he started thinking about it, and he couldn’t stop the tears from forming now. His dad was very sick, and his friends knew it and did everything to distract him, but he couldn’t just forget or ignore it. He silently wondered if they organized this prom night to keep him occupied.

A loud noise erupted from one of the other barns, and Bill sat up on his palms, seeing Mike running (more like stumbling) in that direction, Stan following on his feet laughing uncontrollably. Bill was pulled from his thoughts and stood up, running after them but stopped to check on the steaks. They seemed to have almost been ready, and he started walking towards the other barn to tell the other two boys. He didn’t even make it there when he saw both of them walking back, and Stan started running when he saw Bill walk in their direction, slamming into him with a bone-crushing hug.

“The s-steak is r-ready, Mike,” said Bill, barely able to breathe from the gangly Stanley hanging off of his neck.

“Awesome, man. I’m so fucking hungry, I might just pass out,” said Mike, leaning on both of his knees for support as if his head was too heavy to stay upright.

“W-what were you guys d-doing there?" 

“Some sheep were disturbing the other. I think they were the ones who escaped in the middle of the day and didn’t get fed, so they decided to wreak havoc-“

Mike’s speech was cut off by the stomping sound behind him, and he turned around as swiftly as he could before he took in the dozens of fluffy white forms charging in his direction. He did a double-take screaming ‘run!’ and started sprinting in the direction of the party barn, flailing his arms at the rest of the group. He rushed by the barbeque, knocking the thing down and sending the steaks into the dirt and dry grass, smoke rising from where it hit the ground.

Ben was the first to notice the three forms running in their direction. He was sitting on the grass next to laughing Beverly who was pointing at Richie’s idea of a ‘tribal mating ritual’, and he shook the girl to point the finger at their friends’ approaching forms. Mike sprinted past them to the back of the barn, screaming ‘sheep!’ as he passed by.

Richie and Eddie stopped immediately and looked at the scene before them. There was a small fire forming at the beginning of the driveway to the barn, there were dozens of white forms getting closer to where they were standing, and Bill and Stan were running feverishly towards them, their hands clasped. Everything looked so ridiculous that they both laughed at first until they saw WHAT were the white forms getting closer.

Eddie screamed at a very high pitch, swiveling around and sprinting for the door. Richie stood frozen to the spot, looking at the flock of fluff approaching him, too drunk to comprehend the dangers of angry sheep. A particularly large one with dark grey thorns was suddenly running faster than the others, going straight for the tall boy. Richie faintly heard Eddie scream his name when he felt himself lose connection to the air and the earth as he tumbled onto the ground, his head hitting the rough ground.

The small boy ran up next to him with a log flailing it in all directions to distract the angry ram. Richie was laughing like a maniac on the ground, clutching his damaged groin and folding in two. Mike suddenly appeared with a huge piece of red fabric and started swinging the thing in front of the animals in an attempt to distract them which in turn just attracted their attention. Eddie fell down on the ground laughing at Michael’s attempt at being a matador and saw the rest of the group approach behind with some kind of a dumb instrument, unsure of what to actually do with it.

Eddie tugged on Richie’s arm to get him to get up before he got stomped to death and started charging at the sheep again. It turns out, Eddie looked a lot more terrifying to the animals, and Mike used his help to locate every single one of them to put them back in the barn. Eddie was running around the field until 4 am looking for a loose pregnant sheep until he found her sleeping in the tall grass and screamed all the profanities in the world at the poor expectant mammal, sending her running back to the barn fast as a gazelle.

 

And for that moment in time, frozen in the happy warm feeling of the night, they were happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> silly chapter :P
> 
> posted this drunk and sleep deprived, hope it's good
> 
> <3 comment, loves


	17. September, 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie have THE talk.
> 
> *MENTIONS OF RAPE/NON-CON*

The sun was shining inconveniently straight into Beverly’s eyes when she jolted awake from the phone ringing on her nightstand. Her new Nokia had a pleasant melody, but the vibration was shaking everything that she had positioned around it, sending one of her favorite lipsticks tumbling down with an audible thump. She quickly registered that it was most likely very early in the morning because the sun was directly in line with her window, fighting to break through the clouds above it. Bev reached the arm out to the nightstand and clicked the green button, pressing it to her ear.

“Hello?” Her voice sounded much more groggy than she intended. _Should_ _’_ _ve had less to drink, dumbass._

“Hiiiii, Bev,” said a manly voice, speech slurred and barely coherent. 

“I’m sorry, who is this?” asked Bev, still severely unimpressed with someone calling her this early in the morning.

“I miss you so much,” said the man and Bev instantly recognized the gentle and broken voice.

“Ben?”

“Hiiii, I’m sorry. I... I just wanted to hear your voice,” said Ben, barely getting the words out.

“Ben, are you okay?” asked Bev, sitting up to lean against her headboard.

“I’m peachy, Bev. I really am.”

 “Ben, what’s wrong? Why are you drunk so early in the morning?”

“More like why am I drunk so late at night,” said Ben and hiccuped lightly.

“Love...”

“Why do you still call me that. It... It stings Bev... Every goddamn time,” said Ben, his voice breaking at her name. 

“I’m sorry. I just... That’s who you still are to me, you know? I’m sorry.” 

“I still love you,” said Ben very quietly.

“I know,” said Bev, a tear running down her cheek. “Me too.” 

She didn’t get to say more because Ben suddenly hung up and Bev was left staring at her small red phone, tears running down her cheeks. She lied down sideways and covered her mouth with her hand to avoid making sobbing sounds, clutching the phone close to the left side of her chest. For what seemed to be a 1000th time, she cursed herself and her father for taking away her possibility of being with the man she loved. _If only everything was that simple._

After calming down and finally getting out of bed, she quietly made her way into the bathroom, wishing more than anything to get under some cold water. She turned the shower on, leaving it on the blue side, and quickly undressed her yellow t-shirt and panties, throwing them into the laundry basket. Eddie usually did the laundry and insisted mixing their clothes because it helped with water waste. Bev gently smiled at the thought and stepped under the ice cold pour, taking a couple of deep breaths to let her body adjust to the temperature.

She has been taking cold showers for years now, all starting from the first night her father put his disgusting, dirty hands on her. Hot water was just not doing it for her and made her body temperature skyrocket from where it already burned severely on her skin. She found comfort in the dull burning of the cold cascade, dipping her head back and letting the water rush all over her scalp and face, washing away the tears and the hangover from the night before.

Bev quickly washed with Eddie’s strawberry body wash, using it as a shampoo as well, since she could never understand the difference and conditioners didn’t interest her in the slightest. She stepped out on the little carpet in front of the sink and quickly looked at herself in the mirror, noticing that her wet hair was reaching to her shoulders. It was naturally very curly, but she was sure that if she straightened it, it would reach all the way to her shoulder blades. For the first time in her life, she wanted it to grow out, and she found herself wanting to show how long it was to Ben.

She sighed and quickly towel dried her hair before wrapping it around her breasts and stepping out into the chilly hallway. Her small bare feet barely made any sound, and she peeked into Eddie’s bedroom whose door she forced to be left open for obvious reasons. Eddie laid sideways on his bed, his small shirtless form spooning Richie’s tall one. She leaned on the doorway for a second, contemplating the ways to tell them about the night they didn’t remember, knowing that whether they wanted to or not, it’s time for them to know. 

Beverly stepped out of the door frame and went into the living room area, smiling at the image of Bill hugging Stan from behind on their pull-out sofa. She still couldn’t believe the things Stanley said about what he was going through, and she promised herself to visit them in Connecticut every month. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from one of the kitchen drawers before heading straight to the window that leads to the fire escape.

She quietly opened it, thankful that she consistently used oil to make sure it doesn’t screech, and stepped onto the cold metal landing, feeling the cold morning air hit her face. Bev sat down on one of the steps and lit a cigarette, taking a long drag with her eyes closed, reveling in the contrast of hot smoke and cold wind. She breathed out without opening her eyes, thinking of the events of the past week.

 

 

 

 

Unsurprisingly, Stanley and Bill were extremely upset to leave but they had a lot on their plate, and had an immense amount of responsibilities to take care of when they get back to Connecticut. All five of them were sitting in the living room, eating the leftover waffles from yesterday, everyone’s hangover getting a cure it deserves.

Stan broke the silence of aggressive chewing. “I’m quitting med school,” he said without lifting his eyes, putting another piece of a waffle with nothing on it in his mouth.

Apparently, it was a surprise even for Bill because his eyes widened comically, chewed up food visible in his half-open mouth.

“Good for you, Stanley the Manley,” said Richie with a mouth full of whipped cream.

Stan nodded, and Bill finally regained his composure. “W-what do you mean? W-what are you going to do now?”

Stan took a second to finish chewing his food. “Not sure. All I know is that school nearly killed me and I want to explore my options.”

“I know. I’m s-sorry. You’re right. I s-support you,” said Bill, putting a hand on Stanley’s back and rubbing it smoothly. Stan smiled warmly at his boyfriend and continued eating.

“W-we were thinking of g-going to visit m-my mother in Atlanta. She gets depressed closer to the holidays b-because of dad and I w-want to go see her,” said Bill with a sad expression on his face. 

“That’s great. I’ve never been, but I heard it’s a cool city. Nothing like New York, though,” said Bev, sipping on her cup of green tea and winking at Bill.

Eddie made his way from the kitchen where he was just sorting things on his plate and making tea. He plopped down on the large pillow on the floor next to Richie, almost on the same spot they nearly ravaged each other in front of their friends last night. The thought made his entire body flush, and he smiled at the tall man nervously, and the latter returned it with more enthusiasm than necessary.

They haven’t talked about what happened because Beverly started yelling and saying that they need to discuss that sober and ‘maybe fuck each other without the effects of alcohol for once’. They tried to sneak into Eddie’s room without her noticing, but she did, and propped the door open to make sure they don’t make any mistakes until they ‘figure their shit out’ _._

Richie was about to push more whipped cream into his mouth when Eddie snatched it away from him, smirking at the tall man. Taking it as a challenge, Richie quickly grabbed it back and pushed it towards Eddie’s face, covering an area surrounding his mouth with a sweet mixture. He dived in on the small man, grabbing his small face with both hands and licking the whipped cream straight off it. Eddie’s loud giggles echoed through the living room, and he struggled to push Richie off him.

The other three rolled their eyes as in unison and decided to make ‘clearing the throat’ sounds but to no avail – the other two were as if in their own world. Richie was about to dive in for a kiss when he felt Eddie’s small foot pressing into his chest, and he took in in one of his hands, pleased to find out that he could fit it into his palm. Eddie froze and widened his eyes at Richie is horror, knowing what’s about to come. Richie tightened the grip on the foot and let his nails graze the soles, earning shrieking screams from the small man. Eddie was frantically wiping his face with a sleeve of his red sweatshirt and trying to wiggle away, but he was laughing too hard, and couldn’t really say that he wasn’t enjoying himself. When the tall man started blowing raspberries on the part of Eddie’s stomach that was now accessible because of his wiggling, someone finally butted in.

“Could you not wait to do this disgusting adorable shit when we’re out of here?” asked Stan, rolling his eyes for what could be the 10th time that morning.

Richie pulled away grinning and laughing softly, his eyes not leaving Eddie. “No can do, Staniel. This one is too cute,” he said, pointing his thumb to where Eddie was attempting to regain his composure.

“It would be really nice if you called me anything but cute for once,” said Eddie, furrowing his brows but not without an amused expression on his face.

“As you wish, my good sir. You are so sexy, you make my dick harder than a ripe cucumber. Better?” asked Richie, raising his brow and looking in the small man’s direction.

Eddie’s face instantly reddened and he smacked Richie straight on the shoulder, earning a laugh from Stan.

 

  

 

When it was time for Bill and Stanley to depart, Bev decided to call them a cab to Grand Central, since they were planning on taking the subway. With suitcases. Sparing them the pain in the form of exasperated pedestrians, Beverly walked them downstairs when the cab appeared on the street, leaving Richie and Eddie to do the dishes. They were doing this ritual where Eddie washed, and the other man wiped, stacking them on the small plastic dryer next to the sink. 

“What do you think she meant by ‘again’?” asked Richie, looking at Eddie nervously.

“I dunno. Maybe she knows something we don’t.” Eddie passed the mug to Richie without looking at him. 

“She knows something about us hooking up? How does that even fucking work? Don’t you need to, you know, participate?” said Richie with irritation in his voice, putting the mug on the counter harder than necessary, making Eddie wince. 

He furrowed his eyebrows. “She seems like she wants to help. I think she’s on our side, Rich.”

“Yeah, well, didn’t seem like it when I was palming you, and she threw me off like a ginger Hulk,” said Richie, rubbing the mug feverishly. 

Eddie snorted. “You know, she does have a point though. We’ve never kissed sober. I mean, ever,” said Eddie, looking ahead for a couple of seconds.

“Wait, really? Why?”

“Maybe because you never wanted to confront your feelings?” asked Eddie half-jokingly and looked into Richie’s wide brown eyes, drinking him in.

Richie felt a pang in his chest from how close to home that statement hit. “Maybe.”

Just as they were finishing up the dishes in silence, Bev came sauntering into the apartment, and the energy instantly shifted. She got behind the kitchen counter that stood out into the hallway, leaning on it with her palms and drilling the two men with her eyes. Eddie passed Richie the last plate, and the other dried it off before turning to face Beverly. 

“We have to talk about whatever it is the two of you are doing,” said Bev, her voice filling with so much intensity that it made the room spin.

“Bevvy, can you dull down the ‘tude? It’s too early for this,” said Richie, playing with the brown leather bracelet on his wrist. 

“Richie, it’s almost three o’clock in the afternoon, and I’m not _dulling_ anything down because the two of you need to man the fuck up and have a real conversation.” Beverly crossed her arms and stared at them from the entrance to the kitchen, waiting for a response.

“Fine. But we’re not talking about this in front of you. No offense, but you are kind of crowding us right now,” said Eddie with a small voice, a guilty expression plastered on his face. 

“That’s fair. But before you kick me out of my own apartment, you both need to know that you hooked up on the New Years of our senior year,” she raised her hand upon seeing their horrified expressions, “and I don’t know how far it went because I _wasn_ _’_ _t fucking watching_ but something happened, and I didn’t say anything because at any mention of even a possibility of you kissing, Eddie’s face would scrunch up and you,” she said, pointing at Richie “would pale in the face so much that I thought you’d pass out. I figured you two discussed it or didn’t remember, and put it past you since you didn’t live happily ever after since that night. Anyway, I didn’t hear any confessions since then and figured neither of you cared. But now that this choking sexual tension is back, you both need to know. Whatever fling you had before Eddie left for New York obviously didn’t actually manifest into a relationship, but I also know both of you well enough to say that this isn’t a game to either. So, please, for the love of all that is holy, fucking _talk._ ”

Richie’s fingers were digging painfully into the counter behind him, and the flow of conflicting emotions were not making the situation any easier. He was sure that he was pale as a ghost instead of blushing a bright shade of pink like Eddie next to him – the heat exuding from him was palpable, or maybe it was just Richie’s awareness of how close they were standing. After Beverly’s words died and she turned on her heel to walk in the direction of _the_ window, Eddie’s proximity felt choking and crowding, and Richie felt like he was the one with the breathing problem. He turned his head a little to look at the small boy and saw him scrunching his eyes shut, face red, beads of sweat visible on his forehead from the force at which he was willing away a panic attack.

Richie was so unsure of their boundaries at this point that he didn’t know how to help the other man, especially since his own heart was about to jump out of his chest. So many things happened since the day Beverly mentioned that he _couldn_ _’_ _t fucking remember for the life of me,_ but adding that onto the pile of his Eddie-feelings was just plain overwhelming. Not knowing what was appropriate, Richie placed both of his hands over Eddie’s that were clutched tight in front of him, his knuckles bone-white.

Eddie didn’t pull away or flinch but his eyes relaxed just a bit, and within a minute his breathing was still strained but more regulated. He still didn’t talk and just let the tall man hold his hands, feeling the warmth radiating off of him, making everything easier. It didn’t stop to amaze Eddie that with Richie being one of the main reasons for his recurring panic attacks, he was always pretty much the only one who could calm him down.

Without opening his eyes, Eddie brought the warm ball of their hands to his mouth, kissing close to Richie’s nails. The shudder that ran through the tall man’s body was almost audible, and Eddie smiled with his lips still on Richie’s fingers. He opened his eyes and looked at his best friend, and was met with glistening brown orbs that almost screamed _I love you._ Richie released Eddie’s hands and cupped his face, bringing his face close enough to kiss. Instead, he brushed the tip of his nose on Eddie’s, looking him straight in the eye.

“We need to talk, Eds,” the tone of his voice was serious but also warm, dripping honey.

“Yeah, I know.” Eddie was melting under the other man’s touch, and he put his hand on the bend of Richie’s elbows, slowly caressing him with his thumbs.

“I don’t want to here,” said Richie, gently rubbing their noses again. 

“Me neither,” answered Eddie shakily, still coming down from his attack.

“Do you want to go to my place?”

“Yeah,” said Eddie, brushing his fingers over Richie’s arms up and down. 

Richie reluctantly pulled away and stroked his thumb over Eddie’s bottom lip, making the small boy part them slightly. Eddie saw Richie’s eyes darken and intensify, and knowing that he had absolutely zero self-control around him, gently took Richie’s hand and brought it down between them.

“Talking. Remember?” asked Eddie with a shy smile.

“Hardly,” said Richie, smirking at Eddie whose stomach was experiencing odd small punches.

“When do you want me to come over?” asked Eddie still holding Richie’s hand and standing very close to him, smelling the lingering scent of waffles.

“Whenever you heart desires, Spaghetti Man. You haven’t showered yet which will drive you fucking nuts, let’s be honest. So just do what you need to do and come see me,” said Richie, smiling at the other man.

“Alright.” Eddie gave Richie one of his heart-melting smiles and finally let go of his hand, leaving it to feel instantly cold.

Without saying a word, Richie went back into the living room and quickly slipped his feet into his blue sneakers, grabbing the apartment keys from the table next to the front door. He quickly looked at Beverly’s form on the window pane, and he thought that he’d never get the courage to speak to Eddie if not for her. Smiling at himself, he went out the front door, a giddy nervousness setting somewhere in the middle of his chest.

 

 

 

 

Eddie Kaspbrak has never been more nervous in his entire life. He decided to walk because he wanted to make sure most of his nerves died down, but it didn’t seem to help much. The Walkman kept rattling in the pocket of his oversized denim jacket, and he couldn’t find it within himself to put anything on, afraid of spurring more emotion.

This confrontation, whatever it was going to be, was one of those things Eddie thought would never happen. He daydreamed a lot about getting together with Richie, maybe talking things out, maybe not, but he always wished they’d end up dating. Somehow, it was more in the realm of his personal fantasy world, and he wasn’t sure that the reality of it was enough for him to handle.

Eddie finally reached the apartment building and stood in front of the black metal door, terrified of opening it and going up the stairs to Richie’s place. Everything screamed ‘reality’ and his throat felt like closing up again, making it difficult to breathe. He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, taking a deep breath, and reached his hand out for the handle.

Standing in front of the door to 6B should’ve been comforting but was somehow causing even more anxiety. Eddie felt that he should be excited to see Richie again, and he was, especially with the fresh memory of his lips, and his long fingers, and his boyish scent, and…

Richie swung the door open as if he was standing by it the whole time they were apart, just waiting for Eddie to get there. The smell of pine and cigarettes washed over the small man, making him a little weak in the knees. Richie smiled wide, revealing a set of large teeth that weren’t exactly yellow, but could’ve been if his dad wasn’t a dentist. He was wearing a soft orange V-neck that made his freckles stand out, and a pair of jean shorts that covered half of his thighs. Eddie knew he was blushing and staring, but he found that he didn’t care that much – his infatuation should be obvious by now.

“Hey, hot stuff. Lookin’ good yourself,” said Richie smirking, looking all over Eddie’s body.

“Beep beep. ‘m here to talk,” said Eddie, stomping into the apartment in mild irritation over how quickly he got flustered around the lanky man. 

“Right that, Spaghetti. Serious conversation time. This is so us – confronting our feelings, exposing our emotions, blah blah,” said Richie, dripping sarcasm. He blatantly stared at Eddie’s ass in black sweatpants while the other took off his sneakers.

“Yeah yeah. Well, it’s time for us to finally do it, don’t you think? Or do you make out with all of your friends?” asked Eddie, dropping his backpack by the shoes and walking towards the kitchen.

“The second one,” said Richie grinning and Eddie swung his head backward to give him a pointed glare, curls bouncing, making the tall man chuckle. _Cute!_

Eddie opened the fridge and was amazed to see at least 10 yogurts of different flavors plastered all over the first shelf (with nothing else on it), and some chocolate milk in the door. He lifted the container and held it up with his index finger, the other hand on the hip.

“And what is this exactly?”

“Eds, don’t be mad, regular milk is nice, but it’s kinda boring. So I drink this instead!”

“You idiot, do you know how much sugar you consume on a daily basis? You’ll have the last stage of diabetes before you hit thirty!”

“Ew, don’t talk about me getting old, I’m trying to avoid thinking about it until necessary,” said Richie and then revealed a playful glint in his eyes that most of the time terrified Eddie. But also, maybe, excited something in the pit of his stomach. 

Richie dropped to his knees and shuffled towards Eddie’s standing form, his bare feet doing most of the pushing since the fabric of the shorts didn’t reach his knees. Eddie could’ve started running, but he just stood there, transfixed, a little in love with the image of Richie on his knees, eyes wide through the black lenses, cheeks a little pink, and a mess of black curls surrounding his face. _Jesus._

The tall man put both hands on either side of Eddie’s hips and dropped his forehead on the other’s lower belly, burying his face in the red shirt. Eddie lifted the arm that was holding the milk to avoid hitting the other on the head. 

“Forgive me, oh mother, for being a disobedient child. I shall learn to behave myself, I promise thee,” said Richie with an accent, lifting his head a bit to rest his chin on Eddie’s stomach, looking up at the small man.

Eddie wanted to snort or retort in a snarky way, but he just smiled warmly which seriously killed Richie’s confident bravado, and his hands were suddenly clutching Eddie’s hips harder than necessary, making the small man’s entire body shiver. Richie reached one hand out to take the milk from the other’s hand and threw it in the fridge before pushing the door closed with his elbow. Eddie’s hands went to Richie’s hair as if programmed, the comfort of it all a little disconcerting.

Richie briefly closed his eyes, his hands slowly making their way to Eddie’s lower back, smooth enough that the other didn’t quite feel it until Richie cupped his ass and pushed his face straight where the band of the sweatpants was and took it in his teeth to try to pull it down. The wave of arousal that hit Eddie could’ve taken the whole building down. 

But then he remembered what he was here _really_ for and pushed Richie with his hands harder than he intended, making the other fall backward on the palms of his hands. Richie’s bottom lip stuck out in a mock-hurt expression and Eddie was still finding it hard to breathe, knowing that he already had a semi.

“Talking, Rich. Remember?” asked Eddie, taking off his jean jacket that was making him sweat. _Amongst other things._

“You’re no fun, Eds. We could be talking naked, you know,” said Richie, wiggling his eyebrows and looking intensely at the small tent in Eddie’s sweatpants.

 “No, dipshit. That defeats the purpose of talking about this,” said Eddie, pointing his finger at both of them.

Richie threw his head back and groaned, trying to hide the fact that he was struggling with willing his boner away. Eddie walked past him and stuck his tongue out, walking to the living room quicker than a bug. _The little shit._ The tall man breathed out heavily and left the kitchen.

Eddie situated himself on the couch by the window with his legs crossed just like last time, thinking that Richie might want to smoke while they talk. Instead, Richie sat down on the floor in front of Eddie’s form, putting his head on Eddie’s bent calf. He smiled sheepishly and wrapped one of his hands on the small man’s pretzeled leg, and put the other on his knee, rubbing it smoothly.

“This is distracting,” said Eddie with a small voice, fascinated with how large Richie’s eyes looked looking up at him.

“And why exactly is this distracting, Spaghetti?”

“You know why,” said Eddie, tilting his head a little to even it out with Richie’s on his leg. 

“Is it because you looooove me,” said Richie dragging the word out and closing his eyes as if he was a small boy mocking his crush.

“Yeah, actually,” said Eddie with an even voice, his tone serious but warm. 

Of all the responses, somehow Richie wasn’t really expecting that at all. His eyes shot open, and his throat suddenly went dry, both of his hands stopping the rubbing motion. He just stared at Eddie’s face, looking all over his big brown eyes, counting the freckles around his nose.

“Rich?” asked Eddie and Richie’s eyes shot back to meet his that were now concerned, showing mild fear.

“I… I love you too.” Richie realized that it was much harder for him to say than he thought it would be. Not because it wasn’t true (because it was the truest thing in his entire life) but more because he spent such a long time hiding it, it almost became a figment of his imagination.

Eddie’s eyes were shining with something pure and beautiful, making Richie’s chest hurt. He resumed his hand’s motion feeling his cheeks reddening maliciously, and bent down his head to kiss the other man’s calf.

“So are you gonna tell me what happened then? After I moved?” asked Eddie and he felt Richie’s entire body stiffen where he was pressed against him. The tall man moved back to sit against the coffee table, and put his face in his hands, taking the glasses off and rubbing it furiously.

“Okay, just… Just don’t judge me, okay? I didn’t know how to handle things back then, hell, I don’t even know now, but I’m really trying to make this up, Eds,” said Richie looking up at Eddie’s blurry form and after he saw him nod, wrapped his arms around the knees and braced himself. 

“Sometime around your birthday, after we kissed, _yeah_ , I found out that my mom is an alcoholic. And not just had-too-many-glasses-of-wine suburban shit. It was getting-shitfaced-until-she-couldn’t-breathe type of shit. Wentworth could care less, and he apparently knew for a while and didn’t do a goddamn thing. So, honestly, as much as I wanted to run straight back to you and live in our little bubble, I couldn’t, you know? It just wasn’t a priority anymore,” said Richie without looking at Eddie, rubbing his fingers nervously.

“And, honestly, I didn’t even know what those feelings I had for you were. Everything was happening at lightning bolt speed, and I wasn’t ready for it. I always had a crush on you, I think I knew for a while, but it’s like when we kissed it became real, and, I don’t know. Too much? And I was so conflicted about it, it was all a mix of happiness and confusion but… I could barely handle being alone with you. I’m sorry. I wish I could’ve been more comfortable with my sexuality back then. I wish I realized sooner how much you meant to me, and what we could’ve had.”

“And Bev is right – we barely ever kissed sober, at least from what she knows and I know that it was my fault – I wasn’t brave enough to face things unless I wasn’t wasted out of my mind. Which I’m guessing is what happened with that night on New Year’s. We hooked up and I can’t even fucking remember,” said Richie, tugging at his hair in desperation, his eyes watery now. Eddie was still and silent, eyes welling up with tears.

“And then it was time for graduation and summer, and we were all together so much, and I wanted to savor that, but I was still so. Damn. Afraid. Of everything. Of losing you, of losing The Losers, of my mom never getting better, of my dad never giving a shit about what was going on in our lives. I just wanted to fix things – fix myself, before I dragged you into it. I know it’s stupid, I do. I just couldn’t handle having you go through my mental breakdowns with everything that’s been going on with your mom.”

Eddie sniffled, and Richie lifted his eyes, seeing his friend drag himself down from the couch, sitting down on top of the other’s feet as if they were doing crunches in P.E. He put his head between Richie’s knees and hugged his calves, and Richie’s arms snaked around to clutch at Eddie’s.

“None of this is stupid, Rich. None of it. But you could’ve talked to me. I was always there for you. Always.”

“I know, Eds. But my mom was getting worse by the day. I was hiding her booze, and she would somehow get more. That’s why I skipped school sometimes to keep an eye on her. That’s mostly why I canceled on our hangouts all the time – I just couldn’t leave her like that, you know?” Richie’s tears were running down his face, and we wiped it quickly on his shoulder.

“After you left, it was almost as if the only anchor to sanity that I had was cut off. I started drinking more and smoked so fucking much. I was doing so bad, you don’t even know. At some point, Bev found me puking on the swings in the middle of the day, and she took me to her apartment, and that’s when I told her about everything. You, my mom, my dad – all the shit that’s been going on. Every time I talked to you on the phone, I could _hear_ you smiling when you talked about school, and you seemed so happy, and I was a filthy mess, Eds.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to be your friend, or to be with you, I just wanted to fix all of that shit before it got out of hand, and before it started hurting people I loved. I started alienating myself. Bev helped me lay off the drinks a little, and I was finally sober enough to hire my mom a live-in nurse that would help her with withdrawals and all that shit before she could go to a clinic and get treatment.” _The woman_ _’_ _s voice._

“That’s around the time when shit went south. My dad started butting in, saying that I was spending his money without his permission, he started raising his voice at the both of us – he almost hit the nurse when she told him he was wrong. Everything was just so bad, Eds, and you deserved better. So…I stopped calling, and then you did after some time, so I didn’t bother to revive anything after things got a little better. My mom is in California now, she's doing good. I lived there with her after she and Wentworth finalized the divorce, and I started playing music because it was my only outlet, you know? It also paid well to get gigs at different bars, and I found some decent people to do it with. And then our drummer's connection heard that one of the Broadway shows in New York needed a band ASAP, so we hopped on a plane and got here in time for the audition.”

“And that’s how I’m here. Never in a million years did I think I’ll see you again. I dreamed about you a lot though,” said Richie, finally calming down a little, his voice more warm and calm.

Eddie reached his hand out to wipe some tears under the tall man’s eye, and Richie grabbed it before it fell, kissing the inside of his palm.

“I missed you,” said Eddie, his voice breaking a little.

“Me too, Eds. Me too.”

They sat like that for a little while, Eddie slowly processing everything he heard, trying to piece it all together in his mind where he was always convinced that Richie was just a jerk. It was different now. He had to give this another chance, they both deserved it.

“Rich?”

“Hm?” The tall man’s eyes were closed as he traced his lips over Eddie’s palm to calm himself. 

“We can try this, right? Do you… Do you still want to?”

Richie’s eyes opened, and he looked into the warm gooey pool of love that were Eddie’s eyes, and he felt like his heart was in the right place for the first time in his life.

“’Course I do, Eddie-Spaghetti. I always will,” said Richie, smiling warmly. 

“Slow, right? We’ll take it slow,” said Eddie, kissing the other man’s knee.

“Whatever you want. I’m all yours.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you bet your fur things are gonna be taking off from here!!!
> 
> also, I'm thinking of making the IT/ST tumblr, would any of you be interested in what I post there? my sister is an artist and she's drawing me the characters from "Tea with Milk", and I think it'd be cool if you guys had an image of what I see these two boys as
> 
> love you all to the moon and back (the moon under which they hooked up, yeah)
> 
> P.S. I love whipped cream


	18. May - June, 1995

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Losers celebrate graduation.
> 
> *MINOR CHARACTER DEATH*

“I swear to god, if you make a fart noise while kissing me one more time, I will never get close you again,” said Eddie, shooting daggers at Richie’s face that was still distractedly close to him.

“Eddieeeee, you like it, admit it,” slurred Richie, running his hands through Eddie’s disheveled curls.

“You’re annoying, and I’m thinking of just going back downstairs to see if I can talk to someone else.”

They were lying down on the rooftop with a collection of blankets and pillows that they found in Bev’s apartment while the rest of their friends were still playing board games in her living room. Graduation was shit for pretty much everyone besides Stan and Bill, and the night could only get improved by the promise of their future and spending time together. 

Eddie wasn’t on speaking terms with his mother. She still boiled the damn eggs and made sure to lay out all of the vitamins on the breakfast table, but Eddie never touched them, knowing that if he did, she would consider it as an approval for how she treated him. And he wasn’t or was ever going to be, okay with it.

Richie’s mom was sober during graduation and even showed up, but he hasn’t seen her afterward, and his dad, unsurprisingly, didn’t make it. He couldn’t find his mom at home, and he eventually gave up on the search around town when he saw what time it was and rushed to Beverly’s apartment that was conveniently located in the middle of the busiest part of Derry.

He and Eddie were now tangled around each other, shoes and gowns off, the only fabric separating them were their polos and pants.

“Rich?”

“Hmm?” Richie’s thumb caressed the small boy’s cheek with a gentle motion reserved for just the two of them.

“Did you apply anywhere?”

Richie kept searching Eddie’s face but stayed quiet for a couple of seconds. “You know I didn’t.”

The disappointment on Eddie’s face was more than evident. “Why not?” The voice was small and pained.

“I don’t want to go to college, Eds. And I have to stay here for a little while. I don’t really know what I’m gonna do.”

Eddie grabbed Richie’s hand on his face and pressed his calloused palm in with his. “I don’t wanna go without you.”

Richie could have probably died from the shooting pain in his chest that the sentence produced. Eddie’s eyes were glistening with beginning tears, and as much as it hurt Richie to look into them, he couldn’t turn away. Eddie felt like his own personal magnet, no – a full gravitational force that was painfully tugging him towards the small boy. He almost considered leaving. Almost.

“I know. I don’t want you to go either,” said Richie, lacing their fingers backward on Eddie’s cheek.

“You know, you could figure yourself out in New York. You could… you could get a job and take classes somewhere, and… and we could rent an apartment together. It will be fun.” Eddie’s voice was but a plea, a silent begging. _I can_ _’_ _t handle leaving you. I will lose my mind._

Richie couldn’t handle the words, and Eddie’s large teary eyes and he laid down on his back, breaking their physical contact besides the side of Eddie’s body that was still pressed against him. _We really are attached at the hip._

“I can’t leave. I just can’t.” Richie put both arms behind his head, unwilling to touch Eddie and have a mental breakdown in front of him. 

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?” asked Eddie sitting up and wiping the tears on the inside of his elbow.

“I’m not ready yet. Maybe one day.” 

“Do you not trust me?” asked Eddie, his expression all fear and nervousness. 

“Of course I do, Eddie, don’t say that.” Richie sat up on his elbows and bore his eyes into Eddie’s. “I didn’t tell anyone about this, okay? It’s not something I’m willing to share yet.”

“Okay,” answered Eddie, looking down at the hands in his lap.

“Eds,” said Richie in that voice that was dripping honey and the small boy’s heart stung hard enough to draw blood, but he lifted his eyes nonetheless. “You believe me, right?”

It was probably the desperation in Richie’s voice that made Eddie get up on top of him, straddling him in that position. Richie’s eyes changed instantly, now glistening with mischief and something else that Eddie could never really identify. Eddie took Richie’s face between his hands and kissed him softly, their lips barely touching. Richie was still unwilling to touch the boy, but he leaned on his palms to get closer to Eddie’s face.

“I do believe you. I don’t think you’ve ever lied to me,” said Eddie, tracing his finger on Richie’s lower lip. _Just about my feelings to you. But I lie to myself too._

“I missed this,” said Richie, kissing the tip of Eddie’s finger, and the way the small boy’s eyes glistened made his soul sing.

“Missed what?”

“Kissing you,” said Richie without missing a beat. It should’ve been awkward – the casual way in which the fell back into making out after being friends, but it wasn’t. Nothing between them was awkward.

“And why did you miss that?” asked Eddie, lifting his eyebrow playfully. _Ooh, you cocky brat._

Richie’s face could’ve split in two from the smile that stretched almost from ear to ear. “Because I like this, and we weren’t alone since prom night.”

“Yeah, when you got jealous of _Bill_ of all people. He’s basically my brother,” said Eddie giggling.

“So am I,” said Richie, lifting his brow.

“Ew, Rich, no. That’s gross,” said Eddie, scrunching up his face.

“Why, because you liiiiike me?” asked Richie, getting as close as possible to Eddie’s face without kissing him. 

“Shut up, Trashmouth,” said Eddie leaning forward with a bright blush on his cheeks, this time opening his mouth and touching his tongue without losing any time. _I think his tongue is my favorite thing in the world._ Eddie had a fleeting thought of Richie’s tongue on the inside of his thighs, and he giggled into the kiss, making Richie sit back a little with an amused expression.

“What exactly is so fucking funny, Kaspbrak?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie was laughing harder now, “why do we do this?”

“Do what?” 

“Kiss. Why do we like kissing each other?”

“I don’t know. We just do. Do we need a reason?”

“No. Did you…” Eddie stopped, unsure whether he should ask that. 

“What?” asked Richie, rubbing his nose on the side of Eddie’s face.

“Did you ever think of doing… more than kissing?” asked Eddie, both hands playing with the curls on the back of Richie’s neck.

Richie turned his head to looked straight into Eddie’s eyes that were unreadable, waiting for a response. Something about the way Richie’s eyes darkened told the small boy everything he needed to know, and he shifted a little in Richie’s lap from the sudden tightened sensation in his khakis.

“Hey, g-guys, what do you want for d-dinner?” Bill came up the stairs onto the roof, and his face resembled surprise for only a split second before getting back to normal.

Neither of the boys moved from their position, and they looked at each other quickly before looking back at Bill.

“Um, pizza is fine by me, Big Bill,” said Richie, his voice an utter _wreck_ , and Eddie really tried to hide the effect that it had on him.

“Yeah, pizza is good,” said Eddie, his voice a little high pitched and creaky.

Bill smirked. “Alright, you two. C-come downstairs soon. It’s g-going to rain,” he said, pointing up at the dark approaching clouds.

And sure enough, before either got to so much as press their lips together, small droplets fell on their foreheads and they were forced to separate and collect all the stuff they brought from downstairs. They ran down with small mist on their hair, and their faces still flushed from all the kissing. The Losers all gave them a knowing look before they waved for them to join them at making pizza which they all got considerably better at. They dropped all of the blankets and went to the kitchen, the memory of the previous conversation slowly fading. They never spoke of it again.

 

 

 

Richie found his mother passed out in the backyard of his house the next morning and a note from Wentworth that he was going out of town for a few days. Eddie's mother left town as well right after the graduation ceremony,  leaving him a note on how to take the vitamins and nothing else. Eddie was about to squeal from happiness from the sudden opportunity to make out with Richie in his living room when he got a call from Bill that changed the next month for all The Losers. 

Zack Denbrough passed away the day after graduation, unable to hold the chemo any longer. Sharon saw it coming, and so did Bill but it hit them in the face like a sack full of bricks, and their frozen faces remained in the hospital for the next two days, filling out all the paperwork and making arrangements for the funeral. Sharon didn’t want to leave, and she sat with her knees pressed to the chest, ignoring everyone’s requests to speak to them. Bill did all the talking – even his stutter went away for a couple of days while all the responsibilities of his family fell on his shoulders. He made all the arrangements on his mother’s behalf and stayed with her until she finally fell asleep on the chair in the hallway where his father’s room was, and drove her home, placing her in the living room until he could clean the master bedroom.

The Losers came to visit Bill a couple of hours after it happened, but they didn’t stay long, knowing that Sharon and Bill needed the time to process everything as a family. When they did finally get home, it was only around the end of June when Bill reached out to anyone, and he called Eddie before he even thought of calling Stan. 

“Hello?”

“Eh-eh-Eddie?”

“ _Bill_? Bill, is everything okay?”

“Y-yes. D-do you want to c-come over?”

“Of course. I’ll be there soon.”

Eddie didn’t try to hug Bill when he came in – everything about Bill’s demeanor suggested that he didn’t want any physical contact. He instantly noticed that the house was pristinely clean, and Eddie knew that Bill must have been spending his time cleaning and probably sorting through his dad’s stuff. Bill sat down on his large brown leather couch close to the edge and Eddie sat in the middle, waiting for a sign that he can ask or do something.

“S-so how are you, Eh-Eddie?” Bill looked at his friend expectantly.

“I’m good. Bev got me a summer job at the pharmacy, so I’ve been working there pretty much every day. Mr. Keene barely shows up anymore – says we’re the most organized employees he’s ever had. I mean, he still needs to fill prescriptions and all, because we’re not qualified, but we try to help with everything else. Did you know that Greta got pregnant? We heard him talking on the phone – he sounded so disappointed. She’s dropping out of college,” said Eddie quickly, hoping that it will serve as a distraction to Bill.

Bill smiled, and he noticed how uncomfortable it was – he hasn’t smiled in weeks. “T-that’s great. I’m s-sure you guys have a l-lot of fun.”

“Have you spoken to Stan?”

Eddie saw a painful expression pass over Bill’s features. “N-not yet. You’re the f-first I called.”

“Oh, okay. Can I ask why?”

“D-don’t know. I’ve known you the l-longest.” Bill’s small smile appeared again.

“Okay. Well, do you want to do something? We could watch a movie or do those funny yoga exercises I found in ma’s magazines. We can play a board game if you want?”

“Y-you’re tan,” said Bill, pointing at Eddie’s arm poking out from a white t-shirt. 

Eddie was confused for a second. “Oh, yeah. We’ve been spending a lot of time at the quarry. Well, whatever time none of us are working. And I don’t put on sunscreen so that ma could see how tan I am and have a mental breakdown from thinking that I’d get melanoma.”

Eddie grinned for a second until he realized what he said. “Oh, Bill, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m an idiot,” said Eddie, his face falling into his hands.

Bill smiled warmly. “Eh-Eddie, it’s okay. It was f-funny. I’m okay.”

Eddie lifted his head and rubbed fingers on his temples. “It’s okay not to be okay, you know that, right?" 

“I know. I j-just choose to be. C-can we go to the quarry?”

Eddie was surprised at the sudden change in Bill’s heart but was so excited that he was willing to leave the house that he didn’t question it. “Of course. Can everyone else come too?”

Bill nodded and went upstairs to get his stuff while Eddie sat in his kitchen and called the rest of The Losers. He hasn’t seen Sharon once. 

 

 

 

Eddie drove _Silver_ to the quarry with Bill sitting in the back and clutching onto his waist. Bill asked him to ride on one bike, probably unwilling to drive home alone afterward. They were the last ones to arrive – Bill went to check on his mom before they left and didn’t leave the room for almost an hour, but Eddie wasn’t willing to interrupt, and he wandered about the house, finally sitting down in Bill’s room and looking through his books.

They were now walking towards the group of The Losers who were all sitting in the small circle on top of the hill, most of them already shirtless and talking loudly amongst themselves. Bev and Stan who were facing Eddie and Bill’s approaching forms abruptly stood up, frozen in place and waiting for some approval to ask questions. Before anyone had time to react, Bill sprinted in the direction of the edge and jumped, fully clothed and laughter escaping his lips. Without thinking, Stan ran right after him, diving in with his shoes on and not caring in the least if he landed right on his boyfriend’s head. The rest of The Losers followed suit, Richie and Eddie jumping in last, their hands clutched together.

When they emerged, they saw Bill hugging Stan hard enough for his ribs to snap, sobbing into his boyfriend’s neck. Stan looked back at them with tears in his eyes, his expression full of so much pain that they moved closer, all of them wrapping their arms around the boys’ shaking forms. They stayed like that until Bill’s sobbing turned into complete silence, and then all went toward the shore, positioning themselves around Bill and Stan who were still clutching onto each other.

“My m-mom hasn’t s-said a word ever since that d-day,” said Bill, and they all knew that he was talking about her speech at the funeral which was also the last day they all saw Bill. 

“S-she doesn’t leave h-her room. I h-have to s-spoon feed her,” said Bill, rubbing circles into Stan’s hand.

“She just needs time. She’ll get better, I promise,” said Bev and looked at Bill warmly. He knew what she was talking about – her aunt lost her husband to cancer as well, and Bev helped her through it before she moved back to Derry. 

“I kn-know. It’s just h-hard.”

“Big Bill, we could all come help you, if you want. You know that,” said Richie, his body half hidden by Eddie who was leaning against his chest.

Bill nodded and smiled a little, and Richie couldn’t help but grin, hiding it by pressing a kiss to Eddie’s freckled shoulder.

“We could get away to my farm for a couple of days. Clear our heads? Everyone’s summer got so busy, I’m sure we’d all appreciate a break,” said Mike, smiling at Bill. 

“N-no. I can’t l-leave her yet. M-maybe later.”

“We’ll just take turns helping you around the house. Or take you and your mom out somewhere. Maybe ever a road trip?” asked Ben, playing with Bev’s hair in his lap.

“M-maybe,” said Bill and Stan pressed a small kiss to the side of his face at which Bill’s face finally filled with some color.

“Road trip would be nice,” whispered Richie for only Eddie to hear, letting his lips linger on the small boy’s ear for a little.

Eddie turned his head a little to do the same. “Why are you whispering?” he asked quietly, tugging on Richie’s lobe playfully.

“Because it will be just me and you,” whispered Richie, kissing Eddie’s temple.

“But what about Bill?” whispered Eddie, pressing a kiss behind Richie’s ear this time making the other boy inhale sharply.

“They said we’ll be taking turns. We could be last. Plus, it’s only for a day.” Richie pressed a kiss into Eddie’s hair, inhaling the barely-there smell of his strawberry shampoo.

“Where do you want to go?”

“Québec.”

“Canada?”

“What? It’s less than a four-hour drive. And it’s beautiful there.”

Eddie stared at him for a couple of seconds, unsure if he was serious and then kissed his cheek softly, smiling up at him. He knew that Richie found Québec posters under his bed – it was one of the places on Eddie’s bucket list. Richie must’ve guessed that it was his dream to go there, and made a nonchalant suggestion as if it was no big deal. 

“So sly, Tozier,” said Eddie blushing and smirking at his best friend.

“Only for you, cutie.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is more of a filler chapter tbh since so much is going to start happening in the 'present' part of the fic
> 
> hope you enjoyed nonetheless; I love Bill and want my bb to be okay
> 
> P.S. who appreciated the parallels between the night they hooked up and graduation night hmmmm


	19. October 31st, 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie and Richie attend a Halloween party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to push myself a little to write this - having severe anxiety really, really sucks, my dears. I've been scared of writing anything remotely angsty because of how mentally fragile I've recently been, but I think this went okay. I read all the amazing comments on this fic to motivate myself, and then it flowed right out of me. I'm sorry if this isn't what you like anymore but I really am trying, and I'm infinitely grateful for all the love. Please enjoy.

Eddie was amazingly proud of his Halloween outfit this year. One of his favorite movies of all time came out - Matrix, and he couldn't get the damn  _Neo_ out of his head. So he did the next best thing - dressed up as exactly him for the party hosted by the director of "Cats". 

The show's season has come to a wrap, and it was very bitter-sweet - he was excited about the next step of his career and having a bit more freedom in his life, but he also didn't have a stable job anymore which meant cutting back on expenses. But all that is something to worry about later. He got to keep his black and white costume for the memories, and the producers promised him to put in a good word if he ever thought of auditioning again. But now was the time to slick back his hair and put on a long black leather coat he found at the thrift shop. 

Eddie was pleasantly surprised to see that black fitted him perfectly well and hugged every inch of his toned dancer body. The dark pants lost themselves in the clasped black boots, and the gun straps on his thighs squeezed  _just right._ He was now working on his hair and getting his unruly curls to lay back down was a much bigger struggle than he anticipated. He thought of asking Bev to help, but she was too busy clipping extensions into her own hair, too scared to wear wigs after Eddie told her about the statistics of fleas in rented pieces.

 _I should've bought the fancy gel on the top shelf, dammit._ His hair didn't want to cooperate, and he was getting ridiculously frustrated, rubbing it back with enough force to get bald at that point. He was just about to break the mirror from irritation when he heard the knock on the front door and quickly rinsed his hands in the sink, rushing to open it. He heard Bev scream 'DOOR!' from her room and he sprinted past it, yanking the metal hold back to reveal the intruder.

A wave of conflicting emotions hit him all at once. One of the first ones was somewhere along the lines of  _what the actual fuck,_ followed immediately by a tugging sensation in his chest. He didn't quite know which impression to cling to, so he just decided to stick with  _overwhelmed._ His head felt a little light from the sight before him: a tall man, thick black hair sticking in absolutely every direction and looking like it hasn't been brushed in  _weeks,_ eyebrows gone under the very light foundation, a rain of scars plastered all over the face, revealing a smile framed with a dark purple lipstick. A white button-down had infinite rips in it and hung loosely under the black holding straps that were clasped to the waistband of grey dress pants that looked like they were a size too big. The entourage was, of course, complete with the gloves that carried randomized blades on them.

Eddie sighed heavily, unaware of how to react to the oddity in front of him. "Did you knock on the door with one of the blades, dumbass?" He pushed the dark green door further into the apartment to look for scratches.

Richie made a puppy-eyed expression, putting both hands in front of him, making Eddie bend back to make sure that the (fake?) blades don't strike him in the face. "I thought this was shishkabob." He pointed at the door.

Eddie snickered and nodded to the apartment. "Come in, Edward." He closed the door and looked at Richie all over again, taking in the marvelous dork standing in the middle of his living room. 

"Eds, you look amazing," said Richie, his expression now belonging to  _him_ and not the ridiculous character, a dopey smile on his face.

Eddie felt himself instantly flush. "T-thanks. I can't get the stupid hair to behave though. It's a fucking pain in the ass." He brushed through the hard surface of his brown curls, a couple of his fingers getting stuck on the way.

"Come on, I'll help you out," said Richie and started to walk towards the bathroom. He screamed 'HI, BEVVIE' as he passed Beverly's bedroom door, but she was shielded from view by her large closet and just screamed 'HEY RICHIE RICH' in response.

"Not with those, you won't," said Eddie, pointing towards Richie's gloves covered in blades.

Richie was already standing in front of the sink. "Imma baaarber, haven't ya heard?" He shifted his hands in front of his face sporadically, and they made a terrifying metal sound, and Eddie once again found himself questioning whether they're real.

"You're such a fucking idiot, I swear," said Eddie nudging the other with his hip to take his spot in front of the mirror. He grabbed the mousse from the counter and started warming it up in his hands again.

"You have to let it all go, Neo. Free your mind."

"Is there a pill for whatever condition you have?"

"You take the blue pill - the story ends-"

"Oh  _Goood_ , shut the fuck up," said Eddie laughing, letting his fingers run through the hair that resembled something like greasy noodle soup and nothing like the character's hair in the movie. Eddie even got a haircut for this, and it was really starting to irritate him.

"Oh, boy, Eds. C'mere," said Richie, quickly taking the gloves off and putting them on a closed lid of the toilet.

Eddie's arms dropped to both sides, and he sighed in defeat. "Can't get any worse, I guess."

"I'm quite offended with thy lack of belief, ol' chap!" Eddie rolled his eyes to the next dimension from the odd combination of the accent and Richie's costume.

Richie grabbed the aerosol mousse and squeezed some out into his hand, pushing on it with another to spread evenly between the two. Eddie was staring at him with nothing short of awe and fascination, still a little shaken that Richie chose one of his most favorite characters to dress up for Halloween.  _Wait, does that make me Kim?_

Eddie would never say it out loud, not for a million bucks, but he thought Richie did a great job. His hair was already similar to Edward's but he put in some effort to make it match. His undereye had just the right amount of purple on it, and the scars looked so realistic that Eddie wanted to reach out and touch them.

They didn't go in a couple's costume because they weren't... whatever they were. Nothing happened between them ever since  _the talk,_ and Eddie was getting more anxious by the day. Neither of them knew how to approach this new territory, terrified of what the change will bring into their already messy lives. Richie was staying in the band for the next run of the show, and they weren't going to see each other every day. They will have separate schedules, and Eddie honestly didn't even know what Richie's plans for the future were but-

"Cutie, you're gonna have to look down at your feet if you want this to work. You're not that short," said Richie staring down at him warmly. Eddie loved his glasses but having nothing covering Richie's dark browns was very nice.  _Cutie._

Eddie blushed feverishly and put his head down, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent a shy grin spreading across his face. He felt Richie brush the very last strands on the nape of his neck and he knew they were done. He lifted his head and looked in the mirror.  _Of course, it looks perfect._

"Told ya," said Richie winking and leaning his hand on the counter in front of them. 

"Rich." Eddie was so surprised at the warmth in his voice that he almost did a double take.

"Mm?"

"I..."  _Love you? Be mine? Suck my dick? Do you even want this?_

"Eddie-Spaghetti, fess the fuck up," said Richie, stepping closer. As soon as Eddie felt his (minty?) breath on his face, his entire body felt like it was thrown into a campfire. Every single cell of his body was responding to the other's proximity. He felt like the other end of the magnet, struggling to keep steady but inevitably crashing into its respective side. Eddie could distinctly smell a cigarette that he smoked before he knocked on the door, a lingering smell of chocolate milk that he drank before he left his apartment, and the smell that screamed  _Richie._ His favorite. His addiction.

Richie was standing closer now, and Eddie noticed that there was close to no distance between them now, and Eddie's foot was conveniently positioned between Richie's. He was looking all over the other's face, waiting for permission or some courage from himself to make the first move. His ears felt stuffed, and his head was unbearably heavy - that's how crammed the small space of that bathroom felt with the tension between them. Eddie knew that something is bound to happen between them at some point, and it's not like they haven't tried taking it slow - they really, really did. But Eddie's balls were blue from all the movie nights, and occasional brushing of fingers, and Richie's husky voice over the phone. He couldn't take it.

He leaned on his tiptoes, grabbing Richie's hand on the counter and kissed him, instantly trying to part the other's lips. Eddie's leather coat felt too tight, and so did his pants. With so much waiting, even the lack of tongue turned him on. In fact, _everything_ about Richie turned him on. The other's lips finally parted properly and their tongues touched, swirling around each other in a passionate embrace. Richie's mouth was nothing short of familiar, but there is so much they haven't yet done, so much more to look forward to.

Eddie gripped the waistband of Richie's pants, unable to control himself, unable to have any hold on his emotions anymore.  _I want you, I want you, I want you._ Richie was breathing heavily into his mouth, his lips sweet and bitter, soft and firm, and it was driving Eddie  _insane._

He instantly realized that it was the first time he's kissed Richie Tozier sober. And boy, did he like it so much more. There was no fear of being discovered or rejected anymore, it was just the two of them, lips connected, the complete opposite tastes of their mouths merged into one. Eddie could feel Richie  _everywhere:_ the pushing of that large bony hand on his lower back, the fingers that were now pushing against the column of his throat, making it a little hard to breathe, but somehow amplified the tightness in his pants.

Richie suddenly turned them a bit, and they weren't sideways to the counter anymore - Eddie's ass was pressed against the sink, hurting a little but  _oh so_ worth it. Because of the change of their position, he could feel Richie's hard-on pressing against his stomach relentlessly, and he wished for the nth time in his life that he was just a bit taller so he could feel them brush against each other. Eddie's hand clutched to one of Richie's biceps, massaging and pushing it in slow encouragement.  _Don't stop._

Eddie felt his lower abdomen tighten more and more with every minute and he wanted to  _scream_ how much he wanted Richie to just hoist him up and drop him on his white cotton sheets. Eddie rolled his tongue mercilessly and moaned, imagining Richie pinning him to his mattress, the sheets so messy from their bodies that they were halfway on the floor. He never wanted anyone more.

He realized with a pang of a thrill so sudden it stopped his lips from moving that they could really do it. Go to his bedroom right that second, lose all of those extra layers and make each other scream relentlessly. Eddie almost gave in to the fantasy, and the temptation was too good to pass up, but Beverly's door was open, they worked hard on their costumes, and he had a wrap party to go to. So he pushed Richie forward gently, unashamed of the half-cry that escaped his mouth from the loss of touch.

"We... um... h-have-"

"T-the party-"

"Right," breathed out Eddie, laughing a little at their collective inability to breathe probably.  _Shit, we're worse now than we were at 18._

Richie leaned his forehead against Eddie's, and the other felt wetness and stickiness there, feeling the face paint clinging to his own skin. He couldn't find it within his heart to care but made a mental note to patch up Richie's makeup afterward. Both of the other's hands were on either side of a panting Eddie, and they took a beat to compose themselves before speaking again.

"We're not done here, I hope you understand that, Kaspbrak." Richie's voice was still deep and heavy from their little shindig, and Eddie couldn't help but grin, a thrilling excitement shooting through him in anticipation of  _later._

"I hope you know the implications of that, Tozier. Can't chicken out now," said Eddie with an obvious snark in his voice, smirking at the taller man with a dirty glint in his eyes.

"Mmm. You'll be the death of me."  _I fucking hope so._

 

  

 

The party was in full swing, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. Everyone except Bev that is. Eddie noticed that something was off with her as soon as she walked out of the room, looking like the most perfect version of Vivian Ward that anyone would have a pleasure of seeing in real life. He told her so. Her hair was a little longer now, but she still had to get herself some clip-in extensions to make up for the difference. Her gorgeous pale freckled skin stood out against the short white and blue dress, completed with thigh high black boots and Richie's large sweatshirt closed around her hips. She was, indeed, a pretty woman, the most gorgeous woman Eddie has ever seen, if he could so much as judge Bev as a work of art.

She didn't want to talk about why she was upset, just said that she had an unpleasant phone call and she wanted to forget about it. Eddie and Richie didn't press, leaving her to mingle with the makeup artist of the show that she took a particular liking to.  _...Baby One More Time_ was blaring through the expensive speakers of the director's penthouse, and Eddie couldn't help but feel ridiculously excited to celebrate the end of this era, and the start of a new chapter for all the amazing people he got to know through that show. 

Everyone complimented his and Richie's outfits, shooting them smirky glances. The two walked around the apartment, laughing at the bad art and making fun of the dance moves that one of the retired choreographers were trying to perform. They ended up hanging around the kitchen most of all, thrilled to find some yogurts in the fridge. Neither was a fan of sushi which was the only food served at the event (upon director's attempt at making a pun of them all being kitties) and even danced a little to the most ridiculous pop hits of the 90s, including  _Shoop_ (which both were secretly obsessed with). They haven't had one drink. But then Richie ran away to the bathroom, and Eddie was left alone, observing Beverly's form smoking on the large terrace. He decided that she might not mind his company that much after all, and took off to speak to her.

She was leaning on the metal railing, small pots of flowers standing right underneath, getting coated in the silver waves that seemed to cling to that specific spot despite the wind. It was already cold outside, the end of October was usually rather chilly in New York, but Bev was only wearing that tiny dress, with Richie's hoodie loosely hanging off her because of its strikingly large size. Eddie and Beverly were basically the same size, and Beverly wasn't the girliest, so they interchanged clothes frequently. Eddie remembers wearing this same hoodie on Bill's balcony once, thinking about all the wrongs and rights of being a gay teenager in a small town. All that seemed to be infinitely far away now.

"Hey," said Eddie softly, sliding his elbows on the railing with a little distance from Bev. She liked space.

She didn't seem phased by his approach, almost as if she was expecting him. Her smile was small enough that if Eddie wasn't searching all over her face, he might have missed it.

"Ben called again," said Bev, her voice breaking at the man's name.

"Again?"

"Oh. Yeah. He called me drunk a couple of weeks ago. It kept happening. Fuck, I was so stuck in my head that I almost thought I told you," said Bev, putting her head in one of her hands.

"Hey, it's okay. Want to talk about it?" asked Eddie, unsure of what those phone calls really implied.

"He keeps calling drunk. So drunk. I can barely make out the words. He misses me. Fuck, I fall asleep every night picturing his face, you know? I want to say that I'm gay or whatever, but shit, no girl has ever made me feel what I feel to him."

There was a long stretch of silence where she finished her cigarette and lit a new one.

"I forget that I can't be with a man around him. I haven't seen him in so long..." her voice trailed off along with the silver smoke wafting through the air. "Sometimes I feel like since it's been so long, my body won't react. I might... you know. Be able to stand it."

Eddie didn't know what to answer to that, so he just stood there, keeping her company, watching her rosy cheeks pull in and out from inhaling. She never cried but somehow talking about Ben always made her tear up.

"I know this might sound crazy but maybe you could... I don't know, send him the poems you wrote?" asked Eddie cautiously, waiting for her response as if an explosion was about to go off.

She took her time thinking it over, lighting a second cigarette. Eddie kept staring off into the distance, wondering if he had a problem like Bev's, would he have been a little bitch about Richie ghosting him? _Probably not._

"I'll think about it, okay?" she asked as if she half-expected Eddie to send them without her permission. He would never do that. Bev was everything he had, like a mother and a sister, a best friend that he couldn't ask for in his wildest dreams.

"Of course," smiled Eddie looking behind his shoulder to see Richie sitting on the metal bench right next to the glass doors. Bev smiled back, and he took it as a cue to let her be.

He stood up right in front of Richie, making the tall man look up, the face paint creasing where a smile small formed. He had similar cracks in the corners of his eyes because when he smiled, the fucker smiled with his whole face.  _Fuck, I love you so much, it hurts._

"She okay?" asked Richie, reaching out to play with Eddie's fingers.

"She will be. You know her, she's a tough cookie." Eddie smiled earnestly when he felt Richie press a thumb to the inside of his palm. He felt it deep in his stomach too, like a dull match that was ready to erupt again.

"More like a whole cake. Like one of those crumbly ones." Richie's eyes were dark and warm at the same time. It made Eddie's skin itch with desire.

"That would mean she falls apart. Bev doesn't fall apart," said Eddie, trailing his fingers along Richie's hand without looking, feeling the peeking veins, the sharp bone of his thumb. It resonated in his groin, even the smallest of contact.  _God, I've wanted you for so long, it's killing me._

"Everyone falls apart eventually, Eds. You crash, then you burn, but you recover. Like a phoenix, you know? It's that simple," said Richie as if it  _was_ that simple. Maybe there was only one way to find out.

"Take me home," said Eddie so suddenly and with so much confidence as if it almost came from someone standing right behind him, speaking through his body.

Richie seemed to be taken aback by the bluntness, but his pupils widened, the darkness in the gaze amplified by the light foundation and the dark purple circles around it.

"Your wish is my command, Captain Spaghetti," said Richie smirking, a dirty, sinful glint in his eyes. And not even the nicknames were going to stop them now.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: creamy-brown-eyes
> 
> please comment your heart away <3


	20. June, 1995

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie takes Eddie on a trip to Quebec.
> 
> *INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA*

It should be a very restless day except it isn’t. Eddie is beyond agitated, and he can’t even pinpoint why. Everything has been pins and needles lately, what with the choices for college and whatever butterfly morphed shit decided to take possession of his insides anytime he locked eyes with Richie. And now that he chews on some soggy french fries, just the way he likes them, he looks over to watch Richie smoke out of the crack from the window, lost deep in his thoughts.

They crossed the border some time ago, and Eddie should have his cheek attached to the window, taking in the sight of a country he’s never seen before. But he can’t stop looking at Richie, can’t stop thinking about Richie, everything is  _Richie Richie Richie._ It’s a never-ending, heart clenching whirlwind of hormonal and emotional ecstasy, and it feels like every cell of his body somehow calls for this disgustingly handsome, tall, obnoxious boy that he’s in love with.  _Yeah, I’m in love. Would you look at that?_

He’s not even sure where they’re going - this trip was wholeheartedly Richie’s idea. It has been on his bucket list for as long as he can remember but he never actually thought he’d make it there, so the hope diminished throughout the years. In a deep crevice of his mind, he could remember his dad mentioning how much he wanted to com here - the postcards Eddie hid under the bed were all Frank’s - but the memories of his father were too distant to be sure. They were always there nonetheless, like a protective wall that Eddie lacked in physical form. Because even though Richie tried to protect him, his skinny body ended up busted and passed out while the bullies finished the small boy off. But Eddie could protect himself most of the time. He tried to.

The Losers were all a little confused with their idea of a solo road trip, but nobody seemed to mind. Bill was getting better very slowly, but he had the other’s company for the next few days to keep him occupied. And anyway, Richie wasn’t planning on spending the night. Which is why they left at 05:00 AM, Eddie kicking Richie’s lanky body with his foot until he fell off the bed. They figured they’d get there in the morning, caffeinate themselves to the level of insanity, and explore all that Quebec has to offer. Except it wasn’t nearly as simple when they end up alone.  _It never really is with us._

Eddie can’t stop thinking about the conversation he had with Richie about their college choices. Richie wasn’t planning on so much as applying anywhere, and Eddie knows that he’s always wanted to move somewhere warm. He can’t help but feel fear gripping on his insides, taking control of his spasming throat.  _I will lose him. Whether I like it or not, I will lose him._ And there is absolutely nothing he can do about it.

Richie parks in the gas station, stopping by one of the pumps. Eddie feels bad that his friend is paying for literally everything and he instantly lifts his hips to fish out a twenty. He made sure to take some money from a little box he hides under the bed, covered by a dozen magazines featuring muscular men, heavily oiled, seemingly sweaty. He knows that Sonia would never touch the contents. Thus his minuscule stash has been undiscovered so far.

Richie turns the key to shut off the ignition and rotates his head to look at Eddie. The small boy feels a cold hand cover his shaking palm and he locks eyes with Richie, something warm in the other’s dark brown eyes.

“I know what you’re doing, and I’m not letting you pay for the gas of  _my_ car.” Richie tries shoving Eddie’s hand back into the small boy’s lap but fails miserably. He’s no match for Eddie’s strength.

“Richie,  _stop,_ you literally pay for everything, c’mon.”

“I know but this was my idea. And you know that money is never an issue, Eds.” Richie winks and quickly squeezes Eddie’s chin, and he  _hates_ how it resonates in a hard shiver throughout his entire body.

“Okay,  _stop_ with the nickname and at least buy us some snacks with this. Please?” Eddie extends the twenty and fiddles it in front of the other’s face, debuting a doe-eyed expression that Bev said could ‘destroy a straight man’.

Richie rolls his eyes and snorts softly but takes the bill. “It’s not fair, you know. Those- those eyes of yours.”

Eddie likes to play cocky, so he leans on the separation and raises an eyebrow, trying to pout his lips in a way that would look seductive instead of pathetic. “What about ‘em?”

Richie’s eyes dart straight to his mouth, and Eddie can see through the thickness of the lenses how much darker they are now. There is the slightest shade of pink on Richie’s cheeks - something that Eddie barely ever gets to see, so he drinks it all in.

“I think you know exactly what you’re doing, Kaspbrak.”

Eddie leans closer as if magnetically tugging Richie towards him, willing the other’s mouth to get closer. “ _I_ think you’re imagining things.”

Richie is so close now that Eddie can  _feel_ second-hand smoke getting into his lungs, but it’s the last thing on his mind anyway. “Look, this is-“

They get interrupted by a honk of a car wheezing past them, almost hitting an elderly lady crossing the gas station to get to her car. Both of them snap their heads to look at the driver of a large black SUV, flailing their arms at the woman who now stubbornly stands right in front of the black hood, chastising them for honking. Richie snorts and turns back to Eddie, but the other has already leaned back in his seat.

“Alrighty-o, Spaghetti. I think we should spend your twenty on some good shit.”

“You better not spend a whole twenty in that store. That’s for the whole trip, dipshit.”

“You’re so hard on me,  _why_ are you so hard on me?”

Eddie turns to look at Richie with a deadpanned expression, waiting until the realization hits him. Within several seconds Richie’s head falls back in laughter, and he points the finger at Eddie, bopping his nose.

“I walked right into that one.”

“Okay, don’t waste any more time and get gas already.”

“I have a better plan Spaghetti-o. We’re getting drunk tonight, and I’ll make it my mission to purchase the  _faahnciahst_ beer this gas station can provide,” says Richie with a terrible unidentifiable accent and grins wide.

“Is the beer necessary? And how do you expect to buy it here? You’re not old enough, idiot.”

“First of all,  _rude._ Second, the drinking age is nineteen, and I’m eighteen, so that’s close enough. Anyway, look-“

Richie takes off his glasses and puts them behind the wheel. And it’s not as if Eddie hasn’t seen his best friend without glasses before. It’s mostly the unexpected effect that it suddenly has on him to have a front row seat to Richie’s bare, handsome face, and it knocks all air out of him. If Eddie was drinking right now, the liquid would dramatically purge out of his mouth and straight onto the soft skin of Richie’s pale cheeks. And it’s Richie’s shy smile that makes Eddie’s heart skip, and his stomach turns into a mess of punches and tangles.  _God, I hate this love shit._

“What’s wrong? Do I have something on my face? Is it the Cheetos?” Eddie takes another moment to take all of Richie in before he has to either admit that he’s blatantly staring at his best friend, or make up a lie about seeing a rash on the other’s cheek.

Richie still has the same dust of freckles he’s always had, most of them situated around his nose and very prominent now that the sun is more active. There are indents on the bridge of a crooked nose that only add softness to the face, even though he certainly looks more mature this way. Eddie can clearly see his eyebrows now - bushy but somehow shaped in a way that compliments the sharp edges of his face. And there are small wrinkles on the edge of those extremely dark brown eyes, still visible from Richie’s scary-wide smile that’s always so endearing that it makes Eddie’s stomach feel like it’s possessed. It’s all a little too much, and Eddie doesn’t know why it affects him to the level of obsession, but he can’t even look away at this point. _He’s engraved in me and my skin forever, and it scares the shit out of me._

“Nothing. You- you look… Do you want me to go with you?”

Richie’s cheeks tint a slight shade of pink, and he coughs before he speaks. “Spaghetti, they’ll think I’m buying booze for a minor.”

And just like that, Eddie relaxes a bit thinking how even though he’d rather be in Richie’s lap right now, the tall boy’s complete lack of seriousness eases his libido. “You’re such a  _turd_ Richie, Jesus. I  _am_ a minor and fuck you, honestly.”

Eddie scoots closer to the door and crosses the arms on his stomach, boring his eyes into the ad on the window of the gas shop. He hears Richie get out of the car and he wants to exit the vehicle and kiss the shit out of him, but he’s also angry, so that’s not an option. It doesn’t stop him from fantasizing about it though. And just as imaginary Richie tugs on his lower lip and touches the inside of his thigh, the real one opens the back door, throwing the purchases in, and goes to open the passenger door where Eddie sits in the same position. Eddie looks up at him and hopes that his expression is vicious, and not a puddle of goo representing what currently goes on inside him.

Richie leans in, propping one hand on the seat and the other on the separation, crowding Eddie with a cheeky smile, and that handsome pointed face that’s currently free of the glasses. Eddie can see Richie’s eyes dart down to his mouth and he leans in, kissing Eddie softly, barely moving his lips. And Eddie’s heart is beating so loud, still affected by the daydream he’s been having the past five minutes, and he’s now getting the real thing, and it’s  _so_ much more than he bargained for. Because real Richie smells like cigarettes and tastes like them too, but the real lips are softer, and every time Richie breathes out into his mouth, Eddie’s hands twitch from how much it affects him. This kiss is so much slower and calculated than any they shared before. There is so much  _feeling_ in it that Eddie finds it hard to breathe. And when Richie pulls back a bit and looks at Eddie with warmth and love that he’s never felt in such dimensions before in his life, Eddie doesn’t even speak and just stares back for several seconds, lost in the black of Richie Tozier’s eyes.

Richie has never felt more carefree. It’s odd, being this close to Eddie, having the ability to kiss him anywhere and technically  _everywhere_  but they didn’t go that far yet. Richie isn’t sure it’s a good idea anyway. His entire head is already occupied by the thoughts of his best friend, and he thinks if they ever had sex, he’d find himself permanently attached to Eddie’s body like a six-foot leech.

And it’s so hard to concentrate when Eddie puts a straw in his Sprite and licks around it to make sure that the drops don’t fall on his pristinely clean shirt, or when he reaches for a menu, and leans over the bar to reveal a small patch of tan skin above the waistband of those tight jean shorts, and Richie needs a drink in him  _now,_ or he might actually lose it.

This trip is, of course, all for Eddie. Most of everything he does is for Eddie anyway, even if it doesn’t seem like it. He wishes he could give him a life full of adventure and wide smiles, but he’s just incapable at the moment. Richie has to stay in Derry, take care of the mess his parents made and maybe someday, he can commit to Eddie completely and entirely. But for now, he’s going to enjoy this day and everything that it brings.

They sit down at a random bar they choose because Eddie screams at the size of the sausages they serve, effectively activating an array of dirty jokes on Richie’s side, but even that was apparently not enough to stop the small boy from getting a beer and a  _lot_ of greasy food. Eddie loves to eat, and he especially loves to try new things. It’s one of the upsides of liking to cook, Richie thinks. He watches Eddie devour the sausage with a fervor of a starving bear cub, and he can’t help but snore in his second mug of beer, already significantly relaxed as the alcohol swims in his bloodstream.

“ _Hwhaht?”_ asks Eddie with a mouth full of sausage and bread, trying to gulp it down with his own mug.

Richie props his chin on the hand and looks at Eddie’s slightly red face, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk, and he thinks there is nothing more adorable on this planet. “I can’t decide if you look hot or cute. I’ll go with a word of my own creation -  _hute.”_

Eddie snorts, and that’s how Richie knows he’s drunk enough to actually laugh at his jokes.  _And make out a lot._ “That makes absolutely no fucking sense.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just say  _thank you, Richie, you’re hot too, and if not for the sausage in my mouth, I’d occupy it with yours-“_

Eddie hits him on the shoulder, but his mouth is turned up as he drinks the beer, avoiding Richie’s eyes.

“I have a surprise for you.”

Eddie turns to look at him, and his eyes turn into warm gooey chocolate, that sweet expression that he has when he’s sleepy or when Richie compliments him out of nowhere. “Rich, this has really been enough.”

“No, it’s not. We’re too drunk to drive, and I’m not ready to go back to that shithole.”

“What are you saying?” Eddie hiccups slightly and Richie grins wide before continuing.

“I’m  _saying_ that there’s a nice castle lookin’ hotel close by, and I think we should walk there and get a room.”

“Richie,  _Château_  will cost you a fortune, and I don’t have that kind of money, you know that.”

“Okay that masterful French pronunciation was  _really_ fucking hot, and  _I_ have enough to cover a stay there. Don’t you worry your pretty little head, Eds.” Richie ruffles the other’s hair and slightly pinches his cheek, smiling when he sees a prominent blush cover Eddie’s neck.

“I really can’t let you get us a hotel, it’s ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not. C’mon. I insist.” Richie squeezes Eddie’s knee reassuringly, and the small boy’s eyes dart down to the pale hand, and he looks equal parts torn and turned on. Richie is highly hoping for the second one.

“Shit. Fine. But we’re  _not_ ordering room service.”

“Ugh, Eds, whyyyyyy-“

Eddie insists on paying for that dinner, and they leave the car parked close to the bar and start walking in the direction of the hotel with a bag of crap Richie bought at the gas station. Eddie keeps looking around with bright eyes and a smile that makes Richie’s stomach do somersaults, and he’s so  _happy_ that he wants to scream. And he does. So much that Eddie drags him to the side of the road to connect their mouths in a kiss more passionate than anything they shared so far. Richie can even feel his knees buckle a bit, and his pants tighten from how quickly he’s growing, and he has to step back breathless because people are starting to stare and they’re in the middle of the sidewalk, and Eddie looks so  _good_ that he’s sure he’d ravage him right on the grass.

They continue walking to the hotel, and Eddie chews on the second pack of Kit Kat smiling at Richie mischievously and wobbling so much that they have to hold hands almost all the way. And Richie is very nervous, his palms sweaty and breathing ragged which has nothing to do with the high slope at which they’re walking. They might be in Canada but it’s still the 90s, and liking men is apparently an abominable crime. He paranoiacally looks around and catches the eye of every stranger for any sign of distaste. So far they haven’t encountered a pressing issue, but it’s better that they remain careful. When they near the driveway of the hotel Richie lets go of Eddie’s hand, breathing out in relief when Eddie barely notices, too mesmerized with the building.  _I really don’t want to disappoint you. I’m sorry I’m like this. I love you so much I forget how to breathe sometimes._

They make it to the front desk, and since it’s not the peak of the season, they’re able to get a king-bed room with a nice view. Eddie falls asleep on the comfortable cushions as he waits for Richie to settle the bill, and he has to shake the small boy to direct him towards the elevators. But as soon as they step inside the fancy accommodations, Eddie attacks the mini fridge and fishes out some soda, gulping the whole thing down in less than a minute. Richie snorts at the image and drops the plastic bag on the counter next to him.

“You know, if you’re thirsty, there are other ways to quench your desires.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and throws the empty can in the trash bin. “Shut your trashmouth already,  _God.”_

“Just Richie is fine.” He can’t help but smile wide when the corners of Eddie’s mouth jump and he has to pretend to wipe his nose to hide it.

“I’m going to take a shower,  _Just Richie.”_ Eddie sticks his tongue out, and Richie full-heartedly laughs, sprinting towards the bed and positions himself in the middle.

When Eddie gets out of the shower barefoot wearing nothing but the white bath robe, Richie chokes on the cigarette smoke. He’s lying on the bed shirtless  _because I wanted to feel the silky sheets, not because I’m trying to seduce my best friend,_ and smokes on the cigarette after successfully removing the smoke detector in lieu of an open window. Eddie wrinkles his nose and goes after the mini fridge again, taking one of the beers Richie bought at the gas station. He climbs on the bed and without an ounce of hesitation sits right on top of Richie’s hips. Eddie twists the bottle on the corner of the robe trying to get it open, and after the top successfully clatters to the ground, he takes a sip and makes eye contact with Richie.

Thing is, no matter how many times shit like this happens between them, it always catches Richie off guard. And this time, alone in a hotel, on a king-sized bed, with gorgeous Eddie Kaspbrak on top of him, Richie feels like he  _just_ fell in love,  _just_ discovered what is feels like to have your heart jumping out of your chest. And Eddie is so smug, and perfect, hair still damp, dripping on Richie’s exposed stomach. Richie’s bravado doesn’t just waver - it shatters to a million pieces, dissipating like the ashes of the cigarette that distractedly fall on the carpeted floor. Eddie doesn’t even move but having that weight on top of him is absolute ecstasy.  _Jesus._

“E-Eds?” Richie’s voice cracks at the name and Eddie snorts into the bottle.

“What’s up?” Those angelic brown eyes are glistening with mischief, and Eddie’s cheeks are still rosy from the hot shower. Richie is finding it  _extremely_ difficult to concentrate.

“I…”

He doesn’t really get to finish because he suddenly can’t breathe when Eddie’s fingers start exploring his pale chest, creating goosebumps on the entirety of Richie’s skin. He feels himself shiver noticeably and his heart must be beating a hundred miles a minute. He realizes at that very moment that saying goodbye to this wonder on top of him is going to shatter his soul to pieces. He feels his eyes stinging with coming tears, but he’s distracted again when Eddie’s fingers trace a line along the waistband of his boxers. And as if on cue, he can feel himself hardening.  _Fucking teenage body, goddamn._

“Richie.” It’s the way Eddie says it that makes Richie’s entire body freeze up.

The sensuality in that one word is enough to make Richie fall in love again. The raw emotion in Eddie’s glazed dark eyes, surrounded by still drying long eyelashes is so overwhelming but somehow more intoxicating than anything. Richie lifts up and leans on his hands, trying to get closer to Eddie. The small boy takes the glasses off, and something about their position reminds Richie of a dream he had. But instead of dream Eddie that had an unsteady gaze illuminated by moonlight, the real version is looking straight into his eyes, making Richie feel  _oh so_ warm inside.

Eddie brushes their noses together, and Richie can’t help but release a shaky breath. He then leans in to let their lips touch just enough to ignite something. Every touch is like an attempt to drag the match on a striking surface, and the sound that usually accompanies that is Richie’s breathing and a speedy heartbeat. Eddie wraps his arms around Richie’s neck, playing with the overgrown hair there and he smiles shyly and  _that,_ that smile is Richie’s undoing.

He surges forward with mouth half-open, already pushing his tongue in. Eddie moans against Richie’s bitter lips, and the tall boy wraps his arm around the other’s middle, pushing them even closer together which seems physically impossible. He can  _feel_ Eddie’s fast heartbeat against his own naked chest, and it’s  _addicting,_ he never wants to let this sensation go. Eddie’s mouth is so hot, and their kiss is borderline ridiculous, with how much their teeth clash together, and tongues get far enough to be swallowed. Richie knows it’s close to disgusting, this raw  _passion_ between them, but he can’t stop.  _I never, ever want to stop._

Then Eddie rolls his hips once, and the action is minuscule in its proportions, but it gets the job done. Richie loudly moans in the other’s mouth, and he feels his dick  _throb_ with a need for anything,  _everything._ Eddie grinds down on him harder, more confident, and Richie can’t even  _breathe_ anymore.  _Who knew it could be like this?_

His head is all  _EddieEddieEddie,_ there isn’t one coherent thought in his brain - Eddie’s soft lips is what he’s concentrated on. And the burning in his lower abdomen, naturally. Because Eddie is relentless at chasing that feeling. And Richie realizes with fascination that makes him open his eyes that Eddie isn’t wearing any underwear. And the wave of pure  _lust_ that washes over Richie is enough to knock a grown man down. He can feel Eddie’s moans against his lips, and some deep guttural sounds that escape him, and Richie thinks that’s what heaven must feel like.

Because he’s never felt anything like this before. He’s still severely intoxicated, and he feels nauseous from the overwhelming amount of emotion that rolls through him in suffocating ripples, and-

 _No. Oh no, no, no, no._ He does feel nauseous. So much that he has to literally throw Eddie to the side and run towards the bedroom, forgetting to even throw the door closed. He can hear Eddie’s small steps behind him, but his throat is burning as he empties a yellow substance into the pristine toilet bowl. Richie is confused. He almost  _never_ throws up after drinking alcohol. It just doesn’t happen. His tolerance has gone up to a level high enough for him to drink for several days in a row without feeling a thing.

But  _this?_ This is some next level shit. They were just kissing. His dick was about to explode, but it wasn’t even sex so why the  _hell_ was he so nervous. Richie’s hands are still shaking, and he doesn’t understand what’s happening. Eddie is rubbing circles on his sweaty back, and he suddenly feels bad that he is so disgusting. He lays his head on the chilly seat and peeks at Eddie who’s sporting a signature concerned expression that creates a small collection of wrinkles between his brows. Richie reaches his hand out and pokes Eddie there, making him giggle.  _Cute, cute, cute._

“You okay, Rich?” That small warm voice. So gentle and nice.  _Fuck, I don’t deserve this._

“Just about right, cupcake.” His voice sounds  _horrible_ as if he drank nails for breakfast.

Eddie snorts and rolls his eyes. “You  _really_ need to stop with the stupid nicknames.” He stands up and leaves the bathroom. Richie misses him instantly, but he has no strength to even reach out.

Eddie comes back with a bottle of water and wraps Richie’s shaking hand around it. “Drink. Please?”

Richie does, first spitting some out, and then gulping down half of it at once. He suddenly wants to be back in that bed, but instead of grinding, he just wants to feel Eddie’s arms hugging him from behind. Eddie always makes everything better.

“I’ll take a shower.” Eddie nods and kisses the top of Richie’s head before walking out.

When he comes out, Eddie is under the covers in nothing but boxers, the only light source on the opposite side of the bed, a soft yellow glow of the nightstand lamp. Richie is wearing nothing but underwear too as he climbs in, tugging on the string to shut the light off. Eddie instantly wraps his arm around the other’s waist, and Richie sighs in the pillow.

“You’re not mad?”

Eddie squeezes him tighter. “Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know. For ruining our grinding session.”

Eddie snorts and kisses Richie’s back. “No, you idiot. I’m just worried. I didn’t realize how much we drank.”

“And I used to think  _you_ are a lightweight.”

“I mean, I  _am_. I’m much smaller than you. But you have no muscle, so-“

Richie elbows him in the stomach. “Shut up.”

Eddie leans on the elbow and gently turns Richie’s face to his. “Rich.”

There’s that softness again that makes Richie’s stomach feel queasy. “Hm?”

“I love you.”  _God, I love you too, I love you too, I love you too._

Richie turns around completely, connecting their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omfg it's almost been two months  
> I'd say I feel like crap but I've been extremely busy and my inspiration was taking me in a different direction
> 
> but hey! I decided that I'm not going to make y'all wait another half a year, and the next chapter should be out soon (but don't hold it against me if it isn't, I'm a mess) <3
> 
> you can scream at me here--- tumblr: creamy-brown-eyes


	21. October 31st, 1999

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie get to explore each other in a way they haven't before.
> 
> *NSFW*  
> *INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA*

He doesn’t waste any more time. He can’t even afford to, at this point.

It’s really a ‘do or die’ situation. Richie can flee and forget the responsibilities that the rest of this night would entail, or stay, and accept the consequences of finally making this happen. He isn’t ready to deal with either option, but he figures he waited long enough to be with Eddie. The taste of  _forever_ is fresh and bitter on his tongue - Richie can feel that familiar fear creeping up the sides of his throat, sitting in a tight coil somewhere behind his tongue. But happiness is a price, not a bargain. He has to make it through the night without falling apart.

Eddie’s body exudes an unnatural amount of warmth, even through the multiple layers of the costume. By the time they stumble back into the apartment, mouths connected and energy around them buzzing with lust, Eddie’s cloak is thrown off by the front door, and Richie’s torso is already bare in anticipation. The stark contrast of cold fingertips and lips to the warmth around the chest is creating a stimulation that Richie isn’t ready for. But he gladly accepts the odd sensation that results from walking fifteen blocks on a rather cold October night.

Eddie’s lips are just starting to warm up - the chill of icy drops slowly melting with every surge of Richie’s mouth. Their kissing is frantic, urgent, very impatient. It’s years of pent-up attraction and mutual disappointment, emotions exploding into raw passion.

Bev conveniently decided to stay at the party, and the two of them escaped the penthouse as soon as possible. As Richie licks into Eddie’s mouth on the threshold of the bedroom door, he suddenly feels a burning itch in the back of his throat for some alcohol - the nervousness of the unfolding situation getting the best of him. But he tries to remind himself that their drunk escapades are the reason they found it so difficult to get together in the first place, and he is  _not_  going to risk it ever again. Not with Eddie.

Richie isn’t used to shaking hands and nervous goosebumps - sex is never meaningful to him. It was always more about getting to the bed or couch as soon as possible and getting off, preferably quickly, no talking. But everything is different with Eddie. As Richie struggles to unclasp the weapon holster around the man’s waist, he has a vivid flashback of their night in Canada, and his heart constricts with mingling emotions. He was utterly terrified of his feelings back then, scared of love and especially of showing overwhelming affection towards his best friend. A best friend who is a guy. Maybe if things were better back then, they’d get together sooner.  _If you grew some balls, you mean._  Richie is struggling to pull himself out of the headspace that exudes so much self-hatred. He really needs to be present for this.

Eddie is giggling as Richie lifts the long sleeved black shirt off him because the collar is too tight, and it gets stuck on the small man’s nose, making Richie’s insides jump in the rhythm that translates  _in love._ Even in the darkness of the apartment, Richie can see the shift of ribs and muscles on Eddie’s abdomen, and it makes his heartbeat pick up again. It’s odd to be with someone you know so well because he shouldn’t feel nervous - it’s his best friend after all. But it’s also a man he dreamed of for years, and somehow that makes Richie feel as if he’s never been touched before - and he wishes he hasn’t been. But maybe it’s for the best that he won’t embarrass himself.

“Rich, c’mon, a little help h-here,” says Eddie trying to put the collar past his button nose.

“Eds, you need to stop flailing your arms so I can actually get there-“ Richie tries to lift the shirt but almost get punched in the face.

He tries to implement a different approach by tickling Eddie’s stomach viciously, which successfully makes the small man drop hands to push Richie’s off. Richie uses the opportunity to grab onto the end of the shirt and quickly pulls it off, earning a scream from Eddie about allegedly breaking his nose.

“You turd! Can you be more gentle?”

Richie crowds Eddie’s space, pushing him against the dresser, throwing the shirt on the floor behind him.  “Oh, I’m sorry, I’m  _not_ being gentle enough?”

A giggle escapes Eddie’s lips, and Richie can feel a faint scent of peppermint ghost over his face. Eddie tugs on the other’s waistband and connects their bare chests, making Richie’s heart jump sharply. “I think you’re  _too_ gentle.”  _Oh._

“Alright.” Richie unceremoniously picks up Eddie and throws him onto the bed, earning a squeaky sound followed by  _OOOF_  as the small man’s back hits the mattress. There are a lot of pillows on Eddie’s bed, and Richie climbs on top to throw them all off, pushing the other’s legs to move him closer to the headboard.  _This is a lot more fun than Derry twin beds._ Richie realizes he can spread himself all over, and places his body halfway on Eddie’s, peppering the side of the small man’s face with kisses.

“I. Missed. This,” says Richie with every press of his lips, trying to make them linger and translate the depth of what he’s feeling.

Eddie laughs softly and turns his face to look at Richie. “Missed what? We’ve never done anything like this.”

Richie’s hand is caressing the protruding hipbone on his best friend’s lower abdomen. “Yes, we have.”

He wants to kiss the crease between Eddie’s eyebrows. “What are you talking about?”

“Quebec?”

Eddie seems to be thinking that over for some time, staring blankly at the ceiling. “But it wasn’t like this.”

“I know.” Richie takes the other’s hand in his and presses a soft kiss to the knuckles.

He doesn’t even know when they mood changed between them, but he suddenly doesn’t want to rush at all. The time slows, and Richie is painfully aware of how much he wants to simply savor this. He doesn’t even know if this is going to lead to them being together in the capacity he fantasized about late at night, falling asleep with an ache in his chest to have Eddie curled up next to him. But at the very least, they’re making progress. Richie presses a kiss to the concave between Eddie’s collarbone and shoulder, inhaling a scent of light sweat mixed with the delicious cologne his friend sprayed on himself before the party. And somewhere under there, the undeniable scent of Eddie Kaspbrak - one he knew well enough from all the sleepovers he spent with his nose in Eddie’s pillow.

The weight of his feelings is settling in his mind as Richie kisses around Eddie’s relatively smooth chest, nipping at the skin gently, his body heating up as his friend’s back arches up in pleasure. He doesn’t even push him down which would inevitably give him more control of the situation because he’s too enthralled in every movement, every broken breath, every sharp push of Eddie’s fingers into his shoulders. Richie licks over Eddie’s right nipple gently, pushing on it slightly, and his friend  _moans_ \- somewhere between a strained whine and a suppressed groan. It instantly sends a rush of white-hot blood towards Richie’s groin, and he can’t help the responsive moan that escapes him as his eyes train on Eddie’s chin, exposing the small man’s Adam’s apple and the purplish veins surrounding it. Richie wants to bite all over that area, but he starts moving down instead, unwilling to restrain himself from going lower.

His mouth moves to the other nipple, and he’s a bit more rough this time, biting and sucking on it, tugging it towards him and swirling his tongue mercilessly. Eddie’s fingers are borderline painful on his shoulder, and the noises coming out of him are making Richie so lightheaded that he’s suddenly grateful they aren’t standing up. The pace starts picking up again because that’s how it always is with them: even when they made out just for fun, they would get  _too_ enthusiastic,  _too_ into it, and their bodies would start moving in unison, waves crashing against each other. Just like they do now - Richie’s hips rolling against Eddie’s leg, and Eddie’s hips sporadically bumping into Richie’s shoulder as he starts moving closer to his friend’s bellybutton.

Richie gently bites into the flesh below it, earning the smallest of giggles from his friend coming from the middle of Eddie’s chest, curving into a moan closer to the end. Richie is getting drunk on all of it. It’s so much and not enough. It never is.

Richie pops the button on Eddie’s dark slacks and drags the zipper down with his teeth. He can now feel a small, deft finger in his hair, and he’s in love with the sensation that sends goosebumps all over his body. Eddie seems to respond extremely well to the nips and kisses around the waistband of black boxers, and Richie can’t even remain patient any longer as he drags the pants down, relieving Eddie of their constriction.  _God, he’s a fucking sight._

Even in the smallest bits of light coming from an uncovered window and the blue dials of a nightstand alarm clock, Richie can see the shifts of muscle on his friend's abdomen, the shade the abs cast when he squirms. He could watch Eddie move forever. But his friend doesn’t seem as happy to be observed, and he sits up to drag Richie on top again. But instead of repeating similar actions, Eddie pushes Richie to the side and ends up on top. Richie could honestly _die_ at this moment. The elation in his chest is expressed by the ridiculous grin that splits his no longer cold face; he can’t push that emotion down if he tries.

Eddie smiles back, honest and wide, his perfect white teeth parting in anticipation- “Did anyone ever tell you that you have an infectious smile?”

And this is only one of the many reasons Richie loves Eddie Kaspbrak. They were never too comfortable with honest compliments, especially ones that required pointing out physical features because that basically screamed  _queer._ But Richie always found it difficult to stay away from Eddie, especially when it came to pointing out that perfect fucking face, with a perfect ass, and arms that he could never stop picturing wrapped around him. But this kind of a small detail feels private and intimate, especially when Richie thinks that this might not be the first time his newfound lover thought about the curve of his mouth. As if Eddie spent nights falling asleep to the image of Richie’s parted lips. He loves the thought of that.

“Eddie, my love, you know this smile is reserved just for you.”

Richie’s elated expression falters when Eddie’s small palm cups his sharp jaw, and he feels more vulnerable than standing naked in front of a stranger - there’s something about the deep swimming warmth of dazed brown that makes Richie’s demeanor falter. Eddie leans down and barely connects their lips, the action fond and oh-so-soft that Richie almost doesn’t hear the whisper.

“It  _better_  be. It’s beautiful.”

It’s such a small confession in the grand scheme of things, but Richie feels the sting of tears in the corner of his right eye, and nothing in that moment could convince him that  _this,_ what they have, is wrong. Or  _was_  wrong at any point in time. Richie curses himself for ever thinking he could live without this. Without Eddie. He decides at that very moment to spend the rest of his life making up for the mistakes he’s made over the years. It might not be enough, but he will try. And maybe, one day, the self-loathing will stop, and he’s going to be able to enjoy the feeling of being in love.

Richie loses his train of thought when their lips connect again, this time with enough pressure to make him stop questioning himself. Eddie’s hands are vicious on Richie’s shoulders, and their bodies press together so damn hard as if letting go would somehow break the reality. Eddie rolls his hips slightly, but it’s enough to result in Richie’s strangled moan in the middle of an open-mouthed kiss. It starts to get noticeably hot in the room, and Richie knows it’s completely unrelated to the ice-cold drops that started hitting the sides of the building sometime since they came in.

Richie has to acknowledge how hard he’s holding Eddie’s hips, and  _it’s not as if Eddie would mind a mark, but I’d rather get my mouth on that._ Richie starts inadvertently helping the back and forth movement that makes his entire body sing with lust. He lowers his hands to stop the serious pressure he’s been putting on Eddie’s hipbones and grabs onto his ass instead. An ass he couldn’t stop staring since high school. _An ass that made fucking Patrick Hockstetter question his sexuality. Yeah, bitch. Look who I’m with now._

Teenage Richie is screaming in his head, fist-bumping in the air in  _fuck yeah, man, dreams really do come true, huh?_ Inner monologue is interrupted again when Eddie takes Richie’s lip between his perfectly white teeth and tugs, opening his eyes. And they’re so dark and shiny that Richie feels the back of his head buzz with excitement and anticipation. He didn’t even realize his eyes opened in response to the slight pang in his lower lip. Eddie parts his teeth and smirks wide and playful, an action that makes Richie want to  _scream_ from how happy he is to be where he is now.

“Holy shit, Eds. Where were these tricks when we went to Derry High?”

Eddie bites his own lip and cocks his head to the side.  _Jesus._ “The same place that stick up your ass was.”

Richie laughs hard, pressing the back of his head into the pillow. “Okay, touché, I deserve that.”

Richie can’t see, but he just  _knows_ the little shit rolled his eyes. “You gotta stop calling me that.”

Eddie grabs the back of Richie’s neck and tugs him into a half sitting position, chests, and noses pressed together. Laugh slowly dies in Richie’s throat as they breathe the same air, taking each other in slowly. Richie brushes their noses together and smiles small and intimate, unable to hold it in. Something kicks all over his stomach violently.

“You know, you won’t mind it so much if I end up screaming ‘Eds’ while I’m climaxing.”

Eddie doesn’t respond for several seconds, exploring every inch of Richie’s face with disconcerting detail. His voice is low and quiet when he finally speaks. “I guess we’re just gonna have to see, won’t we?”

Richie connects their lips in a searing kiss, pressing Eddie to himself painfully hard, half afraid that he’d melt right through his fingertips. The resolve in Eddie’s question was grounding, and Richie realizes that he wasn’t sure where this evening was going until he got that confirmation.

Eddie grinds on him shamelessly now, desperation spilling out in shaky breaths when their tongues disconnect. Richie helps to move his hips perfectly, but it’s just over a minute when he knows he has to take a step further. He feels the shake in his fingers as his hands glide from Eddie’s smooth back to the prominent bulge trapped between them. Richie’s left hand wraps around black cotton, and they stop kissing as Richie inhales every shaky breath that escapes Eddie’s mouth. His right hand comes around to squeeze the ass, pushing it closer to him, and he tightens his grip in unison, rubbing, dragging,  _teasing._

Eddie moans loud, free and shameless and Richie’s heart wants to claw itself out his ribs and straight into the room, filling it with the plethora of emotions he feels for this man. He holds Eddie’s eyes, unwilling to let them disconnect, wanting to be part of every moment that lets him see this side of his friend. The side he only daydreamed about.

Eddie bites Richie’s chin playfully moving with the rhythm the other set with his hands. They listen to the music of each other’s breaths, sweat settling on their hairlines and the middle of their backs. Richie lets his hand slip inside the boxers in the back, and he parts Eddie’s cheeks, kneading the muscle underneath. Eddie whines right between their lips and his head falls in the crook of Richie’s neck.

He loses no time biting and licking around Richie’s pulse point, and the other feels like he’s about to disintegrate straight into another dimension. Richie closes his eyes and smiles from the insane sensation that Eddie’s warm, soft lips create under his ear. Richie is so lost in it that he doesn’t even know when he tugs on the small pocket of black boxers to let Eddie’s cock slip out. He  _feels_ it when he spreads the precome in a practiced motion, and his eyes shoot open in realization.

Richie is suddenly thankful that Eddie is too occupied with the sensation to notice his shocked expression. His neck is now viciously attacked by rows of blunt teeth, and Richie hisses when the feeling drops straight to the bottom of his abdomen, and he feels the sting of goosebumps on his forearms. The top of Richie’s head presses into Eddie’s shoulder as he looks down on the perfectly pink head, wet and  _delicious._ He swallows and licks his lips, now fully determined to get his mouth on Eddie by the end of the night.

Richie tugs the restraining underwear down and releases Eddie out completely. He would’ve taken it off entirely if Richie wasn’t in love with the position they’re in. This way he gets to hear every little gasp, and observe every shift of expression that passes on Eddie’s face. It’s intoxicating, liberating,  _addicting._ Richie starts pumping slowly and the moans escaping Eddie’s mouth sing in the unison of the steady pulse in his veins. He bites underneath the small man’s chin when Eddie throws his head back in uncontrollable pleasure, and Richie immediately goes lower, returning the favor by biting and licking all over the other’s neck.

He can feel Eddie’s hips jerk every several seconds, and it makes him wonder whether his friend is restricting himself from movement. Richie wants Eddie to enjoy every second of this, so he pushes his palm to the other’s ass, breaking the calculated rhythm Eddie no doubt created, which immediately changes how the other moves. Eddie now meets the pace of Richie’s hand movement perfectly, and the small man’s eyes shoot open, wide and elated. It makes Richie’s skin tingle in more ways than one.

“Eddie..” whispers Richie against his friend’s neck, getting drunk on the noises filling the small room.

Everything is buzzing around them, and Richie starts to understand why people refer to attraction as “electricity” - every touch of Eddie’s fingers and lips resonates in the rest of his body, making his head fuzzy and his breath shallow.

“Rich?” whispers Eddie in his friend’s ear when his head straightens for a second.

“Hm?” Richie would come up with a better response another time, but right now his head was too occupied with anticipation.

“I want you,” says Eddie quiet and low.

That apparently flips the last switch in Richie’s brain that held onto some semblance of control. He grabs onto Eddie’s hips harder, grinding him down once and attempts to flip him over but his friend is having none of it, stubbornly pinning Richie’s arms to his sides. Eddie smiles playfully and starts slipping lower, dragging his pelvis over Richie’s crotch which makes the taller man fall on his back, groaning in frustration.

Eddie sits back on his heels between Richie’s spread legs and teasingly kneads on his friend’s thighs, getting dangerously close to the crotch, just close enough to tease. Richie is breathing hard, his chest rising and falling in the rhythm of Eddie’s careful, experienced hands through the fabric of his pants. Eddie looks at him from under his lashes, eyes dark and needy, the pure animal attraction in them brighter than the moon in the cloudy sky above them. Dainty fingers drag a smooth zipper down, and their eyes stay locked together through the whole ordeal, hungry and ready. Eddie collects the loose fabric of the pants around mid-thigh and drags it down the entire length of the taller man’s legs, taking the socks off with it. Richie’s eyes dart to black underwear, and he’s disappointed to see that nothing is poking out of the opening anymore. But he’s easily distracted when Eddie crawls to place himself between his spread legs, looking like a wildcat on a hunt, satisfied with catching its easy prey.

Warm fingers trace a line from where his underwear meets the thigh and move lower, circle the knee and travel to the inner thigh. Taller man’s leg jerks from the stimulus and Eddie laughs breathily, a soft endearing sound that makes Richie’s soul sing.  _Fucking shit, I’m not gonna last much longer._ Richie can feel the weight of grey fabric against his hardness, and he knows that his lack of control might just result in preemptive culmination. Eddie’s lashes keep flopping in a dangerous, seductive rhythm, and Richie wonders if he’s blinking this often because he’s nervous or to purposely tease him.

“Eds, please touch me,” breathes out Richie in desperation, his voice distraught and deep.

Eddie sits back on his heel and cocks his head to the side as if considering it. Richie shivers from the pure adolescent thrill that shoots through his entire body, and he can’t help but huff a laugh from how  _ridiculous_ it is that he wants this man so much and all  _he_  wants to do is be-

“A little shit. That’s who you are.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, and his tongue gets stuck between his teeth as he climbs to hover face to face with Richie, just far enough that they can’t accidentally touch. “Is that how you talk to people who want to suck you off?”

A heavy pulse shoots through Richie’s length, and he releases a shuddering breath. “Spaghetti, keep talking like this and I’m gonna shoot my load before you even get the hands on my dong.”

Eddie rolls his pretty dark eyes and lowers himself to speak against the taller man’s lips. “Call me Spaghetti one more  _fucking_ time, and you’re going to jerk off in the shower alone.”

Richie follows his friend’s eyes as Eddie moves to lie down on his stomach, his hands sprawled between the other’s thighs and lower abdomen. All of the attention in Richie’s body switches to its lowest parts, and he can’t stop the images of what’s about to happen to form in his head. Eddie’s mouth closes around the grey fabric that encompasses Richie’s hardness, and he gasps, throwing his head back. The hot and cold treatment is new to him and leaves every cell of his body screaming for Eddie’s contact.

The smaller man doesn’t waste time like Richie does and quickly drags the underwear off, throwing it behind him to land in the middle of the dark room. Richie is suddenly extremely grateful that he made an exception to wear contacts tonight so he can observe every shift of his friend’s body against his own, skin to skin so damn  _warm_ that it’s overwhelming.

Eddie’s fingers tap against Richie’s stomach, playful and teasing, lingering on top of the dark trail of hair. The smaller man presses his index finger under Richie’s bellybutton and drags it down, mapping the path to an even darker patch. Richie’s dick is ‘conveniently’ out of the way, lying in heavy weight just far enough to avoid the touch of his friend’s calculated movement. Eddie keeps up the teasing work, making a point of leaving Richie wanting and desperate. The taller man’s stomach occasionally caves in from strangled uneven breath that escapes him, now more excited that the warm hand accidentally touches the throbbing cock.

Eddie smirks and changes the path, now pressing gently against Richie’s length, stopping on top of the pink wet head. Richie holds his breath through the whole thing, a little lightheaded with the utterly overwhelming feeling of his friend against him. A hand suddenly closes around Richie’s dick, and he huffs a laugh, disoriented and again terrified of how quickly this night might end. Eddie lowers his head to experimentally kitten-lick the pink head. Richie’s heart is destructively jackhammering against his chest, and his hands itch to ruin the perfectly gelled brown hair.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” says Richie unable to help himself, and he sees his friend smile before velvety smoothness of Eddie Kaspbrak’s mouth closes around his cock.

Richie’s hips jerk helplessly, and he doesn’t even have enough time to creak out ‘sorry’ before Eddie goes further, taking half of his length between silky wet lips. And Richie is utterly silenced by the feeling but also the realization that the length is no issue for Eddie. Not that he’s one to brag, but he’s slightly above average due to some goddamn miracle, and Eddie seems to have no issue practically deepthroating him.

Richie’s brain would’ve found a way to be jealous over the many experiments it probably took to get here, but Eddie slightly drags his teeth against his dick, leaving him a gasping mess with no straight thought to form. Eddie is so utterly disarming and completely surprising that Richie closes his eyes for a second, an image of 18-year-old Eddie forming in his mind, blurred but rough around the edges, inexperienced but bold. He should’ve known that boy will become a man who can make Richie Tozier choke on words.

Eddie lowers his head more, now swallowing around the swollen head, almost the entirety of Richie’s length in his warm mouth. Richie feels the hot air of his friend’s nostrils on his skin, and he struggles not to buck into the other’s mouth. Eddie’s head bops up and down, one hand on the lowest part of Richie’s cock, and the other fondling the balls in a careful teasing combination that had the taller man’s stomach curling in anticipation of the release. It took all of Richie’s strength to will himself to tap Eddie on the shoulder and stop before their entire escapade turned into some lame version of a hook-up. He wanted this to be special,  _damnit._

“E-Eds,” croaks Richie, trying to push Eddie away from his crotch.

The smaller man complies, removing the length from his mouth, his hand clutched around it in a death grip as if he was afraid it’d escape. Richie hisses and reaches the left arm out to pry the small man’s fingers off, smiling all the while to make sure his friend doesn’t take it the wrong way. Eddie blinks up at him, his hands now resting on Richie’s thighs, their presence not much helping the situation.

“You okay?” asks Eddie in a small concerned voice, one that he uses anytime Richie does something stupid and gets hurt by it.

Richie props himself up on the elbows and looks at his best friend’s outline, all symmetrical and perfect, long lashes flopping in an expectation of a response. “All good. Was just about to nut. It’s fine.”

Eddie laughs softly and crawls to hover above the taller man once again, his smile stretching with the swell of Richie’s heart. “Aww, do I get you  _that_ hot and bothered?”

Richie observes the curve of Eddie’s shoulder, slightly visible in the dull moonlight, and traces his finger down to the inside of the elbow, reveling in the softness of his friend’s skin. “I would be really fucking worried if someone  _didn’t_ get hot and bothered by you.”

Eddie brushes their lips together, chests barely touching. “Tozier, the all-time flatterer.”

“Can’t fuckin’ help it, Eds,” Richie throws his hands up in defense, “you’re so pretty, it gives me whiplash.”

Eddie slaps his chest fondly, snorting. “Turd.”

Richie finally gets momentum to flip his friend on his back, and a small giggle escapes Eddie’s throat when long fingers appear under his armpits, hair a bit grown out after days of no dancing. Richie instantly attacks his friend’s neck, licking and slightly biting, obsessed with the task of leaving his mark on Eddie. He quickly starts lowering himself, kissing his way down the middle of the other’s body, following a similar path to get him to an excessive amount of fabric around Eddie’s crotch.

Richie finally drags black boxers down, tossing them in a general direction of the rest of the discarded clothing and starts planting heated kisses from the heel to the inside of full, smooth thighs, getting drunk on so much as having an opportunity to feel Eddie like this.

The small man’s entire body is wreathing, moving in waves of what Richie absentmindedly hopes is pleasure. He glances at Eddie’s length, satisfied with its hardness visible even in the darkness of the room, and he wants to turn on the light but thinks better of it. His eyes adjusted enough to clearly see the other’s expressions, and, well, anything that he wants to see. Maybe another time.  _Next time._

Richie smiles against his friend’s hipbone, reminded again of how lucky he is to be in this position, surrounded by skin and bone of the man he’s loved for almost a decade now. Maybe even longer than that. Before he knew what it’s like to love someone enough to question what a platonic relationship is. Enough to know the difference between what he feels for Beverly and Eddie.

He doesn’t realize that he stopped kissing Eddie’s body until he feels a gentle tap on top of his head, and Richie’s head lifts from the convenient spot it occupied on his friend’s lower abdomen. “What’s wrong?” asks Eddie, voice laced with concern and maybe even some nervousness.

Richie instantly lifts up to level their faces, and plants a soft kiss to the perfect plumpness of Eddie’s lips, feeling giddy when the smaller man chases his mouth as they part. “All good. Fuckin’ perfect.”

Richie is met with a small smile, and he starts lowering himself once again, determined to go through with the action this time around. Eddie’s fingers attempt to brush through his tangled hair, and Richie inwardly curses himself for applying too much hairspray. But his friend doesn’t seem to mind, too occupied with the task of freeing Richie’s face from any obstacles that might prevent mouth to dick contact.

Richie takes Eddie in his hand and licks a stripe bottom to top, squeezing the hip slightly. He rolls his tongue around the head, collecting all the precome, making it easier for his lips to drift lower. Richie hollows his cheeks and goes further, his other hand traveling down to put pressure on Eddie’s hairless balls. Eddie is obviously restricting himself from bucking into his friend’s mouth, and it’s evident in the tense muscle on his forearm, and the continuous flex of the abs. Richie lets go of Eddie’s cock and smoothes a hand over his friend’s stomach, hoping it will help him relax. Instantly he hears a noise escape Eddie’s throat, trapped in an attempt to control the situation. Richie half-smiles as the head hits the back of his throat, thinking how predictable Eddie’s behavior is, even in the bedroom.

He continues the vicious rhythm, letting his teeth occasionally graze the length, bobbing faster with every passing second. Richie’s hand slips from where it was gently fondling the balls to the puckered rim. The strongest desire to eat Eddie out overcomes him but he thinks it’s better to leave it for another time. If things go well, they’ll have years to explore each other’s bodies.

He circles the pad of the finger carefully, teasingly and he feels Eddie’s thighs squeeze his shoulders in a silent plea. Richie smiles against Eddie’s dick and drags his teeth carefully all the way to the top. He feels Eddie squirm, and he squeezes his side. “Eds?”

Eddie opens his eyes and lifts up a little, sweat glistening on his forehead. “Yeah, just…don’t do the teeth thing, okay?”

Richie’s chest constricts from the fact that he did something wrong. Richie kisses his friend’s belly and winks in response, hoping to diffuse the tension. He can’t see if that gets a good reaction from Eddie, but he decides to continue with the task, his palms shaking a bit against the skin of his friend’s thighs.

Richie presses on the rim slightly, delighted with how responsive it is when his pad starts going in. He kisses Eddie’s buttock and caresses the backs of his friend’s thighs, Richie’s head on a continuous loop of  _don’t screw this up, man, you might not get another chance._ Small noises fill the room, and Richie feels his cock spring in response. He gently bites where he was planting kisses earlier and groans loudly. Richie can hear Eddie’s breathy laugh, and it goes straight to his ego as his mouth spreads into a satisfied smile. Everything seems just a tad too perfect, but Richie knows better than to question Eddie’s intentions if the push of his friend’s hips is any indication.

Richie sucks on his middle finger generously before pressing in again, this time much easier than the first. He continuously nips on Eddie’s buttocks, pressing his finger with more urgency every several seconds. Richie can feel his insides flopping with anticipation, and he’s getting rather impatient when he feels his friend’s thighs shake under his hands. It takes all of his self-control not to flip Eddie over and fuck him senseless. But the last thing he wants is to inflict pain or any sort of discomfort, so he continues on with the tenacious stretching and kisses that turn into bites the more they wait. It’s minute torture, but Richie can handle it. They waited long enough.

Richie creates a torturous pace between sucking Eddie off and pushing the finger in slowly, carefully. The noises get louder and so do the wavy body movements in the small fit body. Eddie’s pelvis seems to be pushing itself into Richie’s finger. Waves of lust wash over the tall man and his eyes roll back, want screaming loud through his hazy mind. He pushes the finger until one knuckle goes in, then the second and then the finger is in entirely, completely enveloped in the warmth of Eddie Kaspbrak.

The night continues with the addition of the second finger and consequent impatience of Eddie’s body. Richie has to consistently push the other’s hips down, smiling against hard length, his mouth pleasantly numb. When he feels Eddie’s thighs shake considerably he removes his mouth to trail kisses around the crotch area, both fingers now the second knuckle in. Eddie’s responsive body is constantly moving under Richie, fidgety as if impatient, and the taller man can’t wait to get the third finger in.

Richie pushes in relentlessly now that the resistance lessened and his head is swimming from the wet sounds and shaky breaths that fill the room. He can see the muscles on Eddie’s stomach moving constantly, and his dick twitches from the play of light displayed on his friend’s body. He disconnects his mouth from Eddie’s skin to look at all the ways he’s affecting him, all the ways the small man’s body moves in response to Richie’s tongue and fingers.

“Eds, do you have any lube?” asks Richie breathlessly, his voice urgent and hoarse in the small space of his friend’s bedroom.

He sees Eddie open his eyes, looking around as if he was violently shaken out of his dream. Richie puts a palm on his friend’s abdomen, rubbing it all the way to the collarbones and back, unable to keep his hands off Eddie. The smaller man smiles uneasily as if that movement alone is enough to send him over the edge.

“Y-yeah. The second drawer.”

Richie nips on Eddie’s knee playfully before surging himself forward awkwardly to retrieve the needed item. He can feel Eddie’s toes rubbing against his length teasingly, and Richie coughs out a laugh, his resolve on the steepest edge of a cliff he can’t wait to leap off of. Richie finally gets the bottle from under the neatly stacked underwear, and he doesn’t even bother to look at the flavor - knowing Eddie it would be clear and hypoallergenic. Eddie’s fingers graze Richie’s forearm, and he’s almost shocked when goosebumps cover his chest. It’s almost laughable how any touch sends even more blood to his dick and tightens his chest with even more fervor.

Richie squeezes a dollop on the tips of his fingers, quickly rubbing the big thumb against all of them to achieve the right temperature and workable consistency. He sees Eddie scoot himself lower on the bed, shiny black eyes glowing with lust as dark shadows play around the entirety of the small body. Richie lowers himself again, kissing the inside of the other’s thigh and starts slowly pushing one finger in to test the flexibility. Eddie moans and grabs onto the messy mop of Richie’s hair, impatience evident in the slight tugging.

Richie confidently slides the second finger in meeting next to none resistance, his dick pulsating in anticipation. Obscene wet sounds fill the room making the atmosphere that much more charged.  _Jesus._ Eddie is so incredibly responsive - arching his back with the movement of bony fingers inside him, his thighs pressing together in a desperate effort of some movement, mouth parted in anticipatory  _ooh-uh’s,_ and Richie can’t possibly get enough. He curls his fingers to feel the stretch again, and he must hit that sweet spot because Eddie half-screams, half-groans, yanking Richie’s hair so that the taller man’s forehead ends up on a tan stomach.

“Jesus  _Christ_ , Eds, that was fucking intense. Didn’t know you’re this kinky.”

Eddie breathes hard when he speaks, but there’s nothing but strong resolve in his voice and the firm press of his fingers on Richie’s chin. “I need you to fuck me right  _now._ Jesus, Rich, I waited years for this.”

Richie’s chest constricts at those words, a painful realization that they could’ve been together a long time ago pressing against his skull again. He tries not to dwell on it and instead turns his head to the side, kissing the inside of Eddie’s palm with all the affection he can muster in a slight gesture. He can hear his friend breathe out in relief as if those words have been on the tip of his tongue the entire night.

Richie scissors and curls his fingers again, taming flailing Eddie with a firm press of his palm to the other’s abdomen. Once he feels that no more stretching is needed, he pulls them out and sits back on his heels to open the condom packet that he found in the same place as the lube. But he doesn’t get to so much as touch the foiled square to the side of their heated bodies when Eddie grabs it from the sheets, opening it with his teeth.  _God, I’m gonna cream my pants like a fucking high schooler._

Eddie sits up a bit, the wrap abandoned on the floor, lubed rubber in hand. His other hand travels up Richie’s thigh teasingly, and the taller man can see a playful smirk on the other’s face. Eddie confidently rolls the condom on Richie’s length, and the other feels his dick twitch with every second the smaller man’s fingers are on it. Eddie pinches the top and presses a soft but firm kiss to Richie’s lips, lacing their fingers together, guiding them to lie back down.

Richie settles on top of the heat of Eddie’s body, their chests briefly touching when the taller man leans in to leave a trail of kisses on the entirety of the other’s neck. Eddie’s fingers travel around Richie’s ribs and sides, exploring and kneading, pleading for more contact if that were even possible. Richie’s elbow presses into the mattress as he lets the other hand travel between them down to his length, grabbing it in preparation. Their breathing is in sync, merged and strained, shaky with anticipation.

“Are you sure, Eds?”

Eddie rolls his eyes but places one of his hands on Richie’s cheek, giving him a piercing gaze that would convince anyone of anything. “Do I look like I don’t want this?”

“Okay.”

Richie presses the head against Eddie’s hole, and he has to considerably push to actually penetrate.  _God, this guy’s body has recovery powers of a virgin._ Both a terrifying and thrilling thought crosses Richie’s mind, and he knows that it’s stupid to ask, but he feels too consumed by these thoughts to just let them run through his head.

“You’re not a virgin, right?”

Richie doesn’t know if it’s his slightly amused whiny voice or what but Eddie giggles, affectionately squeezing the taller man’s shoulder. “No.”

Richie chuckles and presses in more, now starting to feel the enclosed space and the delicious heat enveloping his lower body. He can’t even stifle the groan that escapes his throat, and he buries his face in Eddie’s chest, his teeth and tongue exploring the skin there as his body adjusts to the feeling. Eddie’s reassuring hands on his shoulders are giving him all the signs that he’s not hurting him and Richie presses in more, getting considerably breathless with the tightness. Eddie isn’t making any sounds, nothing but short breaths escaping him. When Richie finally bottoms out, there are several seconds when they just stare at each other, and it’s so disarming to be this close to someone you loved for so long. As if the anticipation only intensified the feeling instead of letting it melt away as the years went by. Eddie’s fingers rub against the scalp on the nape of Richie’s neck, and he nods, giving the other permission to move.

Richie pulls out halfway, closing his eyes at the feeling of dragging skin. He snaps his hips back with more effort now, and he can’t help but smile at the loud moan Eddie makes.  _And I’m not even moving much. Just wait for more nights, baby. We have so many more now._ Richie doesn’t want to become a sobbing mess, so he simply keeps up the pace, reveling in the shine of sweat on Eddie’s forehead, the lines between his brows, the glisten of spit on full pink lips.  _God, you’re so beautiful._

Eddie’s eyes snap open, and they’re so dark and  _raw_ that Richie forgets where he is for a moment. “So are you.”

Richie connects their mouths, kissing Eddie slow and deep, mirroring the slow pace they’re currently going at.  _I guess that’s what the whole ‘making love’ thing is._ Eddie’s fingers are in his hair, rubbing against his scalp, slightly tugging, heavenly movements no matter what they are. Richie’s hips inadvertently snap a little harder than before, probably hitting the prostate judging by the press of Eddie’s stomach against his, and a louder pitch of sounds coming out of his perfect mouth.  _Fuck, I can’t get enough of you._

Richie doesn’t keep it up for too long, the slow pace stimulating him more than he thought it would. The combination of Eddie’s fluttering lashes, small moans and the  _overwhelming_ heat all around them is getting Richie closer to the edge dangerously fast.

“E-Eddie, I’m close.”

Eddie silently guides Richie’s hand to his dick trapped between them and the taller man starts pumping, his hips moving faster and faster. Both he and Eddie are barely making any sounds, breathing all shallow and moans broken. Richie lowers his head and nips on Eddie’s chin, unable to conceal the drowning amount of affection washing over him as he’s getting closer to the edge. Eddie lowers his chin afterwards to align their lips and speaks loud and clear against Richie’s mouth.

“I love you.”

Richie feels his eyes water, and he says it back shakily, barely keeping himself together physically and emotionally. “I love you too. So fucking much, Jesus-“

He connects their mouths as they both teeter on the edge of their orgasms, panting against one another’s lips. The kisses are messy: all teeth, spit and tongue, but as Richie’s lower abdomen explodes and his brain fills with something ecstatic, he thinks that moments like these are worth decades of waiting. Especially the merged convulsing of their bodies against each other, the column of Eddie’s throat exposed as a relieved groan jumps out of his throat.  _I mean. You can’t wish for more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok I knooooow I take forever  
> I'm really sorry  
> life is crazy busy??? but I try???  
> also, this fic is giving me so much confusion  
> I don't really know where I want this to go because my original plans are Canceled™
> 
> tumblr: notsugarandspice
> 
> please let me know what you think! <3


	22. August, 1995

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Losers Club say goodbye to Eddie.

Eddie knows it’s coming before it actually happens but it doesn’t make the arrival any less painful. The day he’s leaving for college. It’s supposed to be a happy occasion,  _right?_ Eddie’s packed all of his most precious belongings: his favorite CDs, a couple of shirts that still fit him since middle school, some trinkets that remind him of the Losers. But there’s something, and if he was honest with himself,  _someone,_ he can’t seem to stuff in any of the bags he owns, no matter how large.

Richie is sitting on the hood of Sonia’s car, smoking and looking out at the vast expanse of the street Eddie lives on, green and empty at the same time. The rest of the Losers are supposed to pull in sometime in the next hour. For some inexplicable reason, Sonia decided that it’s best that they start driving at night. That way the hardest part of the trip is going to be in daylight.  _Whatever you say, ma. I’m willing to put up with any bullshit, as long as it’s the last summer I see you._ Thank fucking God for scholarships. Eddie couldn’t have possibly paid for his school any other way. Not with a mother like his. But those worries seem far away now. The more pressing matter is in front of him, scraped and skinny and  _beautiful._ Eddie’s chest constricts painfully as he hops down the porch steps to step in front of his friend. Or boyfriend. Whatever they are.  _Or were._

Eddie places himself in the space between Richie’s legs where they’re propped up on the ledge of the car. Skinny bare knees are pointed towards the road, and Eddie finds himself comfortable in that little world between them. Richie takes the last inhale and tosses the half-smoked cigarette on the ground, exhaling the grey smoke towards the sky, away from Eddie’s face. Richie lowers his head to lock red, swollen eyes with the other, and Eddie doesn’t need to ask why. It’s mirrored in the dark circles under his own eyes, in the scratch marks on his back that Richie left when he sprinted towards the Tozier residence in the middle of the night, his chest so fucking heavy it felt like it didn’t belong on his body. They kissed so hard and messy, their faces wet with tears and skin raw from how close they were trying to get, without actually getting anywhere.

And now they stand in front of each other, no fire, just glowing embers, devoid of movement and desire to speak. Eddie does anyway. “Are you staying? You’re really staying?” He knows the answer. There’s just a very twisted part of him that still hopes Richie will hop in the back of the car, his suitcase already shipped to New York or something.  _Lunatic._

“Yeah. But you already know that.” Richie looks tired. His hair is greasy and overgrown, tied in some semblance of a bun on the nape of his neck. His skin looks grey and sickly as if he’s been trying to fight a cold without medicine.

Eddie’s head drops and his chin almost touches the collarbones - a childish act that somehow seems sensible at the moment. “I know.”

Richie squeezes his finger under Eddie’s chin, and the distinct scent of cigarettes invades the small boy’s senses. He can’t help but wrinkle his nose as their eyes connect again. “You gotta stop this.”

Richie raises his eyebrow and removes a finger. “What? Touching you?”

_What the fuck?_ “No, dipshit. Smoking.”

Richie snorts sardonically. “You know I can’t promise that, Eddie.”

_Eddie._ “You should try. If you hope to be alive next time I see you.” Eddie knows how desperate that sounds, but he doesn’t care. There’s not enough time. Never enough.

“Hey, no offense, but death can fuck itself. Not even that would stop me from seeing you.”

Now Eddie is on the verge of hysteria, he can feel the pitch of the scream creeping up his throat. “Richie-“

“Ay, don’t, Eds. Please.” Richie basically pushes the last word out. The whole sentence before is pure  _pain,_ and Eddie can hear it, can feel it like something digging into the deepest crevices of his heart to take out everything he loves.

Richie pushes his glasses up and digs the heels of his hands into his eyes forcefully, leaving them there for several seconds. Eddie can’t hell if he wants to be left alone.  _There’s no time._

“Anyway, what are you gonna do once you get there?” Long arms fall to rest on naked thighs, and Eddie has to fight the temptation to drag Richie upstairs and do something he wanted to do all summer. There’s just something about the shift of Richie’s long thumb against the small black curls on top of his pale skin that has Eddie silently whining with longing.

“What do you mean? Unpack, of course. And try to kick ma out. Don’t know how long she plans on staying.”

Richie cocks an eyebrow, and Eddie’s stomach flips helplessly in a very practiced fashion. “What, she’s really gonna get a hotel or something, just to bug you?”

“You know her.” Eddie looks in the direction of his house, the red and yellow, and dark brown, all familiar but so fucking alien at the same time. He can’t wait to get out of here.

“I just can’t believe that she even speaks to you after that outburst. You think I should go inside and offer her some comfort? You know, in the shape of my-“

Eddie clasps a hand to Richie’s mouth but can’t help the small laugh that escapes him. “Don’t even finish that sentence. I can’t stand you sometimes.”

Richie lowers his head, and the glasses fall back on his nose, his expression all  _yeah, right._ Eddie is getting slowly annoyed by his smugness. Richie’s voice is muffled against Eddie’s newly wet palm. “Sure, sure,  _Eddie-bear.”_

“Ugh, Richie, no!” Eddie pushes off his friend and circles around the car, small stones flying off where his blue sneakers inadvertently kick them. Moving is the only way he can ensure he doesn’t need to face the weight of this situation, or this day, or the rest of their lives, really.

Richie circles from the other side, and they end up leaning their backs on the slanted trunk. Eddie can feel Richie’s eyes on him and the corner of his mouth twitches. Thankfully, it’s the distant corner.

“Eds, are you gonna write to me?” Eddie would expect that question to cause him pain or even disappointment.  _Like, who is he to think I wouldn’t write to him?_ Instead, he just feels empty. As if he’s been gone every year like this and saw Richie during summer. As if they haven’t known each other since kindergarten.

“You’re shittin’ me, right? Please tell me that’s not a serious fucking question.” Eddie is still staring ahead, mostly because Richie’s head is framed by the afternoon sun that would inevitably hurt his irises.  _Your precious eyes, Eddie-bear._

“Damn, you got a mouth on you, babycakes.”

Eddie groans loudly, entirely aware that no amount of serious conversation would ever make Richie mature. Maybe it’s not a bad thing. Maybe things are meant to stay the same, even if people change. “You know I hate these nicknames. Do you hate my name or what?”

Richie does the whole exaggerated double back movement, and his eyes bug out comically behind thick lenses that painfully remind Eddie of the time they played in the water, and the number of times he had to find them on the bottom of whatever place they explored that day.  _You can’t really drown, they all float there, and you’ll float t-_

“Seriously? Your name is the only one I use to scream out in pure ecstasy. If you don’t count your mom’s name or the last name which also works, but I really don’t-“

“Rich, cut it.” Eddie finally realized with a feeling so heavy it almost brought him down to his knees that Richie has been acting a lot more like the middle school version of himself lately. Eddie doesn’t know if it’s his way of leaving a mark on the small boy’s memory or what, but it was definitely making him reminiscent of all the time they spent together. And not just the two of them: all the Losers used to be so much closer. Before the heavy burden of education, social acceptance and adult responsibilities swept them up and thrashed them violently in a hurricane that led straight to hell. College. Which should be a lot more exciting than it currently is.

Eddie doesn’t mean to be ungrateful. He knows how lucky he is to live in New York with minimum loans and plenty of scholarships to last him to grad school. But the feeling of familiarity can’t be replaced. It can’t be ignored no matter how much he wanted. That’s the moment Eddie decides to keep his distance from people who  _aren’t_ Losers. He doesn’t think he can ever trust anyone like that again.

“What’s on your mind, sugar?” speaks Richie with a southern drawl that makes Eddie’s skin crawl and tingle at the same time. It’s always such a whirlwind of emotion to be around Richie. It’s been like that from the start when Eddie threw a little car in the buck-toothed boy’s face and made him cry loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear. Eddie has never been more scared in his life. In his defense, Richie wouldn’t stop touching him, and Eddie  _hates_ unnecessary physical contact. And when he had enough of it, he dealt with it in short spurts of uncontrollable anger, hence the little dent between his best friend’s eyebrows. Eddie finally looks at him and lowers the glasses with his index finger, his lip trapped under the top row of teeth.

Richie gets unbelievably quiet and still, but Eddie knows it’s not for long - he’s going to start tapping his foot or wrecking his cuticles, or clashing his teeth - anything to keep his body occupied while his mind ran enthusiastically. “Do you remember getting this?”

Brown irises travel up as if they’re somehow responsible for capturing the barely visible dent that’s obviously inaccessible to Richie’s eyes. Eddie snorts at the effort and points the spot on his own face. “Does a blue toy truck ring any bells?”

“Oh, yeaaaaah. You totally had a crush on me from day one, Spaghetti.”

Eddie takes a step back and crosses the arms under his chest. “Did not!”

“Dude, that’s the whole pigtails agenda. You were always mean to me because I gave you a chub. Just admit it.”

“Richie, that’s gross. And the whole pigtails agenda is bullshit, and you know that. You should’ve been mean to me in return. I was such a shithead.”

Richie’s eyes get gooey soft, and Eddie knows where this is going before it actually happens. “You were always the cutest shithead. I never really took your threats seriously because your cheeks would blush this pretty pink color and I just couldn’t take my eyes off them.”

Eddie’s heart is thrashing against his rib cage, ready to leap out and hop all the way to Canada. Richie steps away from the car and extends his arms, bony hands landing on Eddie’s waist. Eddie immediately grabs onto the pointed elbows, and he’s almost annoyed by how practiced that movement is. “Don’t charm me.”

“What? I’m not doing anything, my love.” Richie winks and kisses the tip of Eddie’s nose. “Aaaaand there’s that blush.”

Eddie pushes his lips to the corner of his mouth, trying to force a smile to disappear along with the redness of his cheeks. “It’s kind of sad.”

Richie’s confuzzled expressions will never cease to amaze and entertain Eddie. “What?”

Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes even though he knows that the sentence had disappointing implications. It’s not his fault Richie can’t read his mind by now. “It’s kind of sad that you never really had to try so hard. You flirt as if your life depends on it but…”

“But what?” asks Richie, his voice low and heart-throbbingly soft.

_...but I fell for you when you were playing a goddamn video game, and your hair was greasy, and there were chips all over your stupid lap. You were sitting in your goddamn underwear because you spilled some beer you sneaked out of your house and your glasses were cracked everywhere. You probably haven’t showered for days and I didn’t even want to think of the last time you brushed your teeth, but I couldn’t stop looking at you. At the furrow of your perfect brows that sat exactly behind the top of the thick frame. The way your eyes danced around the screen, big and excited. The way your tongue jumped out of your mouth as if it had an extra controller that could help you pass the level you’ve been stuck on. I still remember how it knocked the wind out of me to think of you that way. To want to exist in the space between your lips and touch the small curl that rested on the nape of your neck. I still remember you throwing the controller and burying your face in my lap, dramatically crying about the prejudiced fate of the universe and I never felt more confused in my life. I let myself stroke your hair and the look you gave me almost made my chest explode. I don’t know if you could tell, but I gave my heart away that day. It was all yours. Forever._

Eddie moves closer and connects the lips, soft and slow.

* * *

For the second time that day Eddie wants to sit down on the ground and cry. Three-year-old style. Everyone’s embrace seems to leave a mark on his back, and when they disconnect, Eddie feels like their hands take away a part of him he will never recover. Richie stands at a distance, puffing on a cigarette and Eddie is getting legitimately concerned over how much the other smokes a day. He might also be a little pissed that Richie didn’t throw a fit and threw him over that bony shoulder, refusing to let go. But maybe that’s the sign of how mature he actually is.

“-and I promise to visit soon.” Eddie should probably feel guilty for ogling his friend from above Bev’s shoulder, but he can’t part with the image of contemplative Richie just yet.  _Just a little more. Please, I just…I want this to stretch forever and ever and ever._

“Right. Hopefully, I’ll be here for the holidays.”  _A lie._ And they know it’s a lie. Bev nods in understanding, looking over to Sonia’s voluptuous form on the porch, standing by the door like a guard dog, making sure that  _her precious Eddie-bear doesn’t get carried off by his queer friends and their dirty hands._

Ben is next, and nobody misses the gentle way he puts his hand on Bev’s shoulder as she walks away and they blush in unison, the unspoken love almost painfully adorable. Eddie feels a pang of jealousy, and he instantly feels ashamed. It’s just unfair that people who  _can_ be together don’t even take advantage of it. It’s almost like the universe has two perfect middle fingers in front of him at all times.

“Hey, shortie.” Ben hugs him right under the armpits and Eddie lifts off the ground. Not too far up because Ben isn’t actually  _that_ tall, but Eddie feels weightless under the firmness of Haystack’s shoulders.  _God, even Richie’s nicknames rubbed off on me._

“Don’t,” Eddie grunts out the words when his throat feels a little blocked off from the sudden ascent, “call me  _shortie._ It’s not my fault I haven’t gained length since I met all of you.” He’s back on the ground, and he catches the wide grin on Richie’s face before his eyes find the green of Ben’s again.

“I didn’t mean to offend, you know that. Just going to miss you.” Ben has always been like that. A little humorous and very very honest. Painfully so. Eddie hugs him tighter than he thought he was capable of and it’s a different kind of comfort because Ben is a big football guy, and it’s certainly a pleasant change after trashmouth ribs that poked into the small boy’s stomach when they embraced some minutes ago. Before the rest of the gang got here.

Ben leans in to whisper something quickly, and the words will echo through Eddie’s mind in the weeks to come. “He’s going through a lot. Don’t forget about him.”

_He’s going through a lot? With what? Why does everyone seem to know things I don’t? Is it their way of ensuring I don’t end up staying here?_ Eddie’s body goes limp, and his arms fall. He gives Ben a strained smile and a nod. He doesn’t really know what else to say.

Bill is next and he seems to carry heavy melancholy around him wherever he goes, the emerald in his eyes dull as if someone put out the light. It started with Georgie but only got worse over the years. It seems like Mr. Denbrough’s death finally did it to him. Eddie noticed that Stan has been falling into a similar headspace as well. Maybe that’s why the two of them spent so much time together.

Bill places both hands on Eddie’s shoulder, towering over him with silent authority, one that Kaspbrak quietly accepted over the years but also failed to understand the older he got. It was unspoken that Bill was the leader of the group, but it has been more clear lately that Bill lacks the stability that Mike has, for example. Eddie’s heart constricts at the realization that he hasn’t been that close to Bill in the past year and it wasn’t just Richie’s fault that the group hasn’t been spending too much time together. Age just got the best of them, same as the distance that hung like a looming shadow over their lucky seven, quietly waiting to make them all part and suffer.

“I’m guh-guh-gonna miss you, Eh-Eddie,” says Bill with confidence and that specific Denbrough sadness that was reflected in his mom anytime Eddie saw her.

“I’ll miss you too, Billy.” Eddie instantly goes for the hug, slightly embarrassed by the nickname. He hasn’t called him this way since that summer, as if the last bits of innocence has been stripped away from him. From all of them. And it just seemed redundant to try to force it back.

Bill kisses the top of his head and squeezes it tight to his chest. Eddie recognizes the undeniable scent of pine and glue that’s always been engraved in his friend’s clothing. He knows he’ll quickly forget it, but it will come back to him next time they see each other. Whenever that’s going to happen.

Bill steps back and his head turns to Stan who’s standing right next to them, wringing his hands in agitation. Eddie can see some tears in his friend’s eyes, and he leaps forward, holding Stanley tight as if he has the power to put him back together. Stan sobs into his shoulder and he has to hunch lower almost as much as Richie usually does, and Eddie feels tears running down his own cheeks, hot and sticky. They sob for several seconds, but the ugly sounds soon turn into laughter: embarrassed and playful laughter that seems a little out of place, all things considered. But they lean their foreheads against each other and Eddie tries not to think how their sweat is now combined, and how ticklish Stanley’s golden curls are on the side of the small boy’s face.

“You take care of yourself, okay, Eddie?”

Eddie ruffles Stan’s hair and the other irritatedly swats the small hand away, smiling. “You too, Stan. Really.” Stan’s face contorts in understanding, and he steps back to let sprinting Mike swoop Eddie off his feet.

He just got here from the farm, probably drove a bike all the way from his farm judging by the wetness of his shoulders, the dampness of his wife beater that’s pressing into Eddie’s thighs. He can’t help but giggle, an overwhelming amount of affection overcoming him and he feels so fucking  _happy_ to have known these people. Something in him breaks a little when they all run up and grab different parts of him, and suddenly he’s parallel to the ground, held by all his friends. Eddie feels weightless and powerful. For the first time since he applied to a school out of state, he feels like he can take over the world. And he  _will._ Small-scale but it’s going to happen nonetheless.

“Time to go, Eddie!” screams Sonia and all the laughter dies down to quiet murmurs of irritation.

Eddie’s body slides against Richie’s, and they embrace awkwardly, half-hugging as the small boy takes control over his slightly numb limbs. Everyone step away in silent understanding, giving the two of them some space to say goodbye. Eddie isn’t even remotely ready to see thick tears sliding down Richie’s pale cheeks, dark eyes blurry behind foggy lenses.

“Richie, don’t cry, please,” says Eddie wiping teardrops off with his thumbs, cradling the tall boy’s jaw, his voice so strained that he thinks he might lose it by the time they reach New York.

“I- I don’t know how…how to do this without you.” Richie’s voice is so raw and thin, it sends needles into the middle of Eddie’s chest. He’d prefer to be stabbed to this interaction.

“Rich, you’re so strong. And I’m always here for you, whatever you need, yeah?” Eddie tilts the other’s face to face him and smiles reassuringly. He doesn't understand why he’s not crying. Almost angry at it. He wants to stomp his foot and scream  _FEEL, DAMN IT!_

“Eds, I-“

“I know.” Eddie turns his head to the side and listens to Richie’s rapid heartbeat, trying to memorize its steady rhythm, one he hopes he’s going to fall asleep to for ages. Richie’s fingers are in his hair, petting and brushing it. Eddie wants the scent of cigarettes to stay on his clothes forever, just so he can remember Richie anytime, anywhere. They stand pressed together until Eddie disconnects, unwilling to let his mother be the reason he can’t hold Richie anymore. He looks into dark brown eyes one last time wishing he had an excuse to just drown in them on this dirty sidewalk, surrounded by six people he loves.

Eddie reluctantly steps away, his arms cold in the absence of Richie’s overheated body, his head empty and heavy. There’s no panic and no pain. He feels so detached from everything, so different  _already_ and it terrifies him that the next time they all see each other, they’ll be different people. Eddie stops by his front door, his mom already inside grabbing the last of their provisions and he spares a look at the six young people on the driveway, all unique and perfect, their skin tinted orange in the sunset light. His family. Eddie gives them a small wave, a small smile, and steps back into the house, knowing that the next time he opens it, they’ll be gone as if they’ve never been there at all.

 

Three hours into the drive he cries in his sleep, dreaming of black curls, smiles that stretch wide, and pretty freckles framing a sharp face.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: notsugarandspice
> 
> we're getting so close to the end! I'm hoping to finish this fic by the end of the month so stay tuned! 
> 
> let me know what you thought of this chapter <3


	23. January, 2000

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Losers Club celebrate New Year's.
> 
> *NSFW*

Beverly can’t believe the position she’s in, surrounded by the five wonderful men in her life. Who would’ve thought that after everything she’s been through, she’d be  _most_  comfortable around five guys? Yet here she is, wrapped in the blanket by the little fire on the rooftop of Bill and Stanley’s apartment building, hot cocoa cradled in her hands. Her eyes travel to Eddie’s form on Richie’s lap, exchanging soft kisses and small giggles. Mike is inside getting himself some spicy whiskey drink. She didn’t ever realize how much he missed him until they saw each other. Bev’s heart swells from happiness.

But…something is missing. She knows it is. Beverly’s throat tightens as images of Ben flash before her eyes, his soft big hands on her back, soothing her after yet another string of nightmares. He was always there for her. Beverly remembers the endless phone calls she’s received throughout the past year, Ben intoxicated in almost all of them. He didn’t even call in for New Year’s. But then again: she’s not even sure he knows where they all are.

“Eh-Eh-Eddie, I forgot to ask, wuh-what are you going to do now t-th-that  _Cats_ are over?”

Eddie reluctantly breaks away from Richie’s face but keeps his small hand on Tozier’s neck, playing with the hair that pokes out of a grey beanie. “It’s been over for a while now. I don’t really know. I haven’t started auditioning yet. I got a small teaching job at a dance studio for now. I kind of like it.” Bev can tell he means it - there’s this dopey look on his face whenever he comes back from work.

“Eddie-Spaghetti is the best dancer on the East Coast. Can you imagine having a teacher with such a cute face?” says Richie pinching the small man’s cheek. Eddie instantly swats the skinny hand away, but the prominent blush on his cheeks is a clear indication that this protective bravado is pure  _bullshit_.

Beverly’s eyes fall on Mike who comes out of a large metal door. He’s holding two drinks - the other one for Bill - and sits down on the spot next to Bev. Mike  _also_ has a dopey grin on his face, and Bev knows it has nothing to do with alcohol. When was the last time they were all together like this? Not fighting their demons but simply enjoying each other’s company? There’s still so much to discuss but so little time. The three of them are leaving in two days, taking a train back to gloomy New York, leaving their best friends behind. It’s going to be tough to part with this family. It’s going to be tough for Bev to convince herself that this was always supposed to be a short meet-up. She doesn’t want to leave.

Bev looks over to Stanley who’s passionately whispering with his boyfriend while Bill pushes the other’s shoulder to speak up. Beverly puts her empty mug on the ground and bends forward to listen.

“Guys, so…we have something to tell you.”

“Oh my God, Stan the Man, are you pregnant?” Eddie snorts but smacks his boyfriend on the shoulder. Stan simply rolls his eyes.

“No, fuckwit, I’m not even going to go into the many reasons that thought shouldn’t have entered your brain,” Stanley pauses and looks over to Bill for reassurance, “we’re moving to London.”

Beverly inches to the edge of her chair, her mouth falling open, teeth slightly sensitive from the violent change of temperature. “I’m sorry,  _what?”_

Her eyes connect with the grey of Stanley’s, and he looks apologetic but also… _excited._ She can’t possibly be agitated by that. Happy Stan is a rarity these days. “Yeah…Bill had a couple of meetings here about the possible adaption of his novel. They want to film it as soon as possible because the anticipation for the book is very promising.”

Bev is ready to melt at the pure look of love in Stanley’s eyes when they connect with greens of Bill’s. A deep melancholy feeling overcomes her.  _They’re going to be so far away._ She’s extremely happy, but now she doesn’t know what to do if she ever wants to come to visit them at this cozy suburban place, sipping hot cocoa and watching black and white movies (which none other than the three of them appreciate).

“This is really good news, you guys.” Beverly smiles wide, and she doesn’t even need to force it. She’s ecstatic.

Eddie’s face suddenly straightens out as his eyes bug out in mild fear. “Are you not afraid to live there together? I mean…it’s London. And you’re-“

“Gay?” asks Bill with an understanding smile that carries an expression  _I’ve thought it all through._

_“_ I just-“

“I know. But it’s not exactly safe anywhere right now. People are assholes no matter where you go. We just have to be…in the right crowd, is all,” says Stan with a sad smile on his face. Beverly sees Eddie struggle not to blurt out a protest, but he’s easily distracted when Richie starts kissing his neck.

“But hey, if it ever gets overwhelming, you can always come visit,” says Mike with a mixture of happy and sad on his face.

“Of cuh-cuh-course we will,” slurs Bill, bending forward to encourage everyone to clink glasses, “to the future.”

“To the future!” exclaims the group in unison, their drinks (and empty mugs) glowing with the silver of the moon above them.

 

* * *

 

Eddie is kind of over the moon. Well,  _figuratively_. But the feeling  _is_  otherworldly. Lying in bed, looking at the sharp edges on his left side is short of a dream - he didn’t think this would actually happen to him. To  _them_.

He can’t help but feel as if he didn’t deserve this somehow. That this is wrong and his entire life led up to this monumental disappointment that lurks around the corner, waiting to make an appearance when Eddie is at his peak happy. He knows it’s also his unapologetic self-hatred shining through, ugly, dull but very familiar.

Richie doesn’t snore. He never did unless he drank too much. And he hasn’t been drinking since Halloween, including tonight. He’s trying. Eddie is grateful, even though he had no idea how deep the whole thing was. He was always under the impression that the substance served as a safety net for their escapades: as long as they were both intoxicated, everything was very much allowed. Never sober. Never sober enough to  _deal._

But Richie has been hiding things from Eddie for  _years_. Things he had all the right to hide and tell whoever he wanted, of course. But Eddie still couldn’t help but feel left out of his best friend’s life for the most part, even though Richie always had his reasons. Now that he knows those reasons, Eddie can’t stay angry or frustrated. He has to come to terms with their past and build something new. Something much better.

Richie stirs and turns to lie on his back, and Eddie smiles from where he comfortably positions himself on his elbow, satisfied with a full view of his favorite face. Richie has a noticeable stubble now, one Eddie consistently complains about because he can’t personally grow one and  _beard-burn is not a fucking joke, dipshit._ Richie’s lashes are curled beautifully right above the apples of his cheeks, their softness a stark contrast to the sharpness of bony cheekbones. There is slight dust of freckles on his forehead, just a couple on the tip of the nose, a lot less than when they were kids. But those that stayed Eddie knows by heart and can probably draw on a blank piece of paper in perfect alignment.

The duvet is somewhere around Richie’s waist, and Eddie takes his time observing the other’s chest, smooth besides the areas with small scars from that time Richie thought it was a good idea to climb a tree wet from the lake. Eddie’s fingers find their way to the dark tree outline of hair that goes thinner the lower it goes, below the cover, and Eddie lets his hand travel down there, a little breathless with the idea of waking Richie up like this. Sweet observations fly out of Eddie’s head quicker than an express train, and he feels over the morning wood bulge of Richie’s underwear, feeling it pulse under his fingertips.

Richie is an  _extremely_ heavy sleeper, and Eddie knows it will take some time for him to even grasp what’s going on but he never tried this before, and he thinks it’s about time he gets comfortable with the idea of them being  _together._ His fingers snake into the hole of the boxers and pull out Richie’s length, almost completely hard from the light rubbing that occurred through the fabric. Richie breathes in and out deeply, and Eddie freezes, his lips hovering over the other’s waist. He doesn’t wake but slaps a hand on his stomach, inches away from Eddie’s face, and he gets terrified for a moment that he’s going to have the imprint of Richie’s fingers on his cheek.

He continues the motion with his hand, planting feather-light kisses above the hipbone, rutting against the mattress when he feels himself harden. Richie is breathing faster now, but he’s still asleep even though there’s now an adorable crease between his eyebrows that Eddie wants to kiss. Eddie tries to spread the small amount of precome on the pink head but it’s not enough, and with an irritated eye roll he takes the length in his mouth with a couple of bobs, leaving enough saliva to make a continuous slick movement.

Eddie raises his head and freezes on the spot, eyes connected with Richie’s dark ones, his hand moving lazily to continue the stroking. Richie’s head is raised and cocked to the side, lips in a pretty ‘O’ that makes Eddie want to straddle him and kiss him senseless. “Is it my birthday, Eds?”

Richie’s croaky morning voice is Eddie’s favorite and makes his blood sing every time. He takes the hand off and climbs on top of Richie pushing him down for a deep, languid kiss. “Good morning.”

Richie grins sheepishly, playing with the hair on the nape of Eddie’s neck. “Fuck, this is the best kind of morning.” Eddie’s stomach flips at the softness in Richie’s eyes.

“Are you okay with this or do you feel like I’m violating you?” asks Eddie half-jokingly and Richie’s face instantly changes.

He flips Eddie on his back, hovering above. “You’re kidding, right? Eds, we’re dating. You can noodle me anytime.”

Eddie wipes off his own saliva from Richie’s lips. “ _Noodle_ you?”

“Yeah, you know-“ Richie makes a hand job motion and Eddie throws his head back, trying not to laugh.

“I hate you.”

Richie bends down and plants soft kisses on both Eddie’s cheeks. “No, you don’t, my love.”

Eddie can feel himself blush feverishly both from the disarming softness of Richie’s gestures and the nickname that’s been used more frequently in the recent weeks. His heart thumps violently, and he leans up to whisper: “I think I forgot to finish something.”

 

* * *

 

“I’ll get it!” screams Bev from the kitchen, running towards the front door of her friends’ apartment. The doorbell has been especially insistent the past couple of seconds, and she had to step away from washing the dishes to answer it since most everyone else was outside. “Just a minute!”

Beverly unlocks the door and lets if fly open, simultaneously wiping her hands on the kitchen towel. Only what she sees in front of her nearly makes her drop it.  _Ben_. Ben Hanscom in all his glory, standing right in front of her, with his red cheeks and stormy eyes and Bev’s heart in his hands.

“Bev,” he chokes out, and it only takes him one step inside to wrap his arms around her, so tight it makes it hard to breathe. He smells like booze and aftershave, and it makes Bev a little sick for reasons she’d rather not think about.

“Ben, I- I can’t breathe.” He instantly lets go but stands very close, and she finally registers the light scent of hazelnut, probably from the cheap gas station coffee he holds in his calloused hand.  _Beautiful, large hand. A hand I’d like to hold and touch and-_ Beverly’s eyes travel to meet the grey of Ben’s, but she can’t even force a smile. She feels like a toddler figuring out the motions of the tongue in their mouth.

“Sorry to just drop in, I tried calling but-“

“Haystack!” And suddenly Ben is in the hallway once again, pushed by the length of Richie Tozier. The coffee goes flying down on the welcome mat, and there’s not much of it, but it spills nonetheless, forever staining Denbrough-Uris doorstep.

Beverly turns to run for some paper towels, but Eddie’s already here with the whole roll in hand. He winks at her sympathetically. “I got it.” She smiles with all the appreciation she can muster and walks in long strides to the kitchen, bending over the sink with a sudden wave of nausea. Bev thinks it’s a temporary anxious thing but the vile creeps up higher and she ends up hugging the toilet bowl of the closest guest restroom, pushing the door with her foot as the breakfast makes its way out of her system.  _He’s here. Here. In Bill and Stan’s apartment. He’s_ here.

She bends the flush handle but stays with her cheek on the seat, and it suddenly smells like an ocean breeze, and the toilet turns blue from the little sticker on the inside. It makes her feel slightly better. Not a minute later there’s a gentle knock on the door, and she already knows who it is before he walks in.

“Heeeeey,” says Eddie softly, pushing himself through the opening. “Richie, no! Go catch up with Ben,” he says when his boyfriend tries to squeeze his noodle arms in the sliver of an opening. Eddie smacks his arm and locks the door before Richie attempts to get in it again.

“I don’t mind him.”

“I know you don’t.  _I_ do,” says Eddie grinning as he positions himself cross-legged in front of Bev, conveniently placed on the tiny rug.

“I don’t know what to do.” Beverly rubs her forehead on the face of her hand, her knuckles providing an unexpectedly pleasant feeling. Her heartbeat is starting to slow down, and in the presence of Eddie, she might just forget about the anxiety she has to face outside that door.

“You don’t have to do anything.”

Beverly turns her head and gives him a blank expression. But instead of hosting her a pity party, Eddie goes straight to the point, just like he always does. Bev loves him for it. “You two need to talk. I don’t know if he knew you were here but this has to end eventually. You talk about him every week, and you haven’t had a serious relationship in…wait, like,  _never_.”

Bev huffs a laugh, ready to give him a piece of mind but he puts a palm in front of her face, a serious, determined expression in his own. “I  _know_ why you keep rejecting him. I can’t relate, but I understand.” Eddie takes a deep breath, and his shoulders drop a little, just like his voice. “Look, you’ve been through a lot, especially the past year. What with me figuring my shit out and that guy basically beating you to death, I just…you deserve to be happy, Bev. You really do.”

Beverly can see that his eyes are teary, and his expression is so full of sadness and love that she can’t help but jump into his arms, comfortable in his small lap and the crook of his neck that smells so undeniably  _Eddie -_ clear sanitizer, aftershave and vanilla, probably from the waffles he recently made. She feels waves of comfort wash over her, keeping her at bay, slowing down her heart and her racing mind. She knows there’s a lot to face in the next couple of hours, but she’s  _ready._ She’s prepared.

 

* * *

 

_Two knocks. It’s polite. Just two knocks. C’mon. Richie said she won’t throw me out._ “Can I come in?”

Ben slides into the room before he hears an answer because he knows it’s going to be- “Yeah.”

Beverly is sitting cross-legged on the bed, her eyes cast downward, some mass market paperback in her lap. She quickly points her eyes towards the edge of the bed indicating where she wants him to sit down.  _She knows me so well._ Ben would’ve been standing awkwardly the entire conversation, waiting for her to open up to him.

He sits down and plays with the fingers in his lap for a while. His head is slightly swimming from the bourbon Bill gave him, and he feels flushed. But Ben is glad to have some liquid courage before this utterly inevitable conversation. He could  _not_ handle this rejection sober.

“I-“

“Ben, I-“

They both laugh awkwardly, and Ben notices the redness in Beverly’s cheeks, the slight shine in her forest eyes. “Sorry-“ they both say, laughing even more now and Ben falls down on his back, rubbing his burning face.

“You go first,” says Bev, putting the book down on the floor, her eyes attentive and slightly enlarged. Ben doesn’t remember them being that big.

He leans on his elbow, turning sideways towards her and tries not to stare. “Okay. Um- well…I just wanted to say that I’m sorry you didn’t know I was coming. Bill and Stan invited me months ago, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to be here. I didn’t really know  _you_  were going to be here.”

Ben sees her deflate slightly and he rushes to mend the situation, his heart filling up his throat. “No- I- I mean, I’m really happy to see you, I just-“

“It’s fine. It’s not like I gave you a reason to want to see me.” She’s scratching her cuticles, and he notices that her nails are long enough to do that. They were always blunt and short.  _She’s so different._

“Of course I want to see you. I always want to see you.” Ben holds her eyes, his intention burning through his head like a mantra.  _I love you, I love you, I love you. I’m not letting this go. I’m not letting_ you  _go._

“Ben, you never came to visit-“

“Bev, you stopped answering my calls.” He sat up, his voice suddenly shaky but louder, more coherent. “What was I supposed to think?”

“This is bullshit.” She stands up to pace the room, curling the hair on her index finger in frustration. It reaches her shoulder blades now. Ben is in love with the gold that runs through orange whenever Bev passes a sliver of sunlight, his stomach doing a small somersault each time.

“Don’t say that. That’s basically saying this,” he gestures to the space between them, “isn’t real.”

She turns to face him, closer to the bed than he thought she would be. He can see every freckle on her forearm and the design of the silver ring on her thumb. It’s distracting. “That’s not what I meant.”

Ben turns to sit straight, facing her and his head is on the level with her chest where a long moon pendant hangs on top of a canary yellow t-shirt. It’s all so  _her_ that it hurts. Maybe she’s not that different after all. “You know what I mean. Just…the way you  _dismiss_ everything I say as if I’m just some  _annoying_ middle schooler head over heels in love with you-“

“Ben-“

“God, just let me talk, please,” says Ben, looking up at her with all the pleading power he has. He can never raise his voice at her, but he can make her understand with his eyes. They could always tell each other anything with barely a look.  
She hugs herself and nods, eyes teary and cheeks red. He wants to kiss the tip of her nose, hide himself in the crook of her long neck forever. Ben knows she’ll smell of cinnamon and that citrusy perfume she used to make herself.

“I’m not here to have an argument. I just want you to tell me, once and for all, whether this is something you want. Otherwise…I just can’t move on otherwise, you know?”

He chokes out the last two words, a tear falling down on his dark jeans, leaving a darker circle as it lands. He hears nothing for several seconds and then her face is right in front of him, their expressions mirrored, his hands cradled in hers.

“Ben, I want this more than  _anything. Anything._ I told you, God- I told you this before. I can’t ask you to date me when I don’t even know if I want to be touched ever in-“

He puts his hands on either side of her face gently, faster than he can think, fast enough that he doesn’t have time to regret it. “You know I don’t care about that, I don’t, I don’t-“

Before he gets to even pull his thoughts together to form a sentence, she connects their mouths and climbs on top of him, wrapping her legs around him like a monkey, her hands in his hair, on his chest, in his  _ribs,_ and he wants to pass out. A breathy moany sound escapes her when their teeth clash, and his whole body feels like it’s on fire, knees shaking, hands sweaty as they grab onto the small shirt. He tries to breathe through it, knows not to have any expectations but her hips are moving, his flannel half-open, her lips are on his neck, and everything blurs before it explodes.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg!! this had an overwhelming amount of Benverly and I'm not even sorry
> 
> let me know what you think! ♡
> 
> tumblr: notsugarandspice


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